


Little Bird

by Altenprano



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen, I'm trying my best, might contain minor spoilers, no editing we die like men, not planning to be shippy, will mention at the start of chapters if there are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altenprano/pseuds/Altenprano
Summary: “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Molly said, giving his head a small shake. He watched as she raised her arms in a gesture of surrender, which he acknowledged with a small dip of his head and a small grin. “That’s better.”“Would you mind telling us what you’re runnin’ from?” Fjord asked, falling in beside Molly, falchion still at the ready, just in case.--A young woman, separated from her troupe after an ambush, encounters the Mighty Nein as she flees the scene, and enlists their help in finding her troupe once more, but, as is usual with our band of heroes, things hardly go according to plan.





	1. Intruder

It was just going on midnight when Mollymauk took the watch—at least, that’s the time he supposed it would be, if they had temple bells to chime the hour.

 

Overhead, the two moons were nearing their respective peaks, one halfway full, like the eyelid of some primordial beast, its great eye half-lidded, not quite alert, while the other, much larger body was nothing more than a thin blade of white-silver against the jet sky. There was barely enough light between the moons and his own keen vision for Mollymauk to see the silver perimeter of the camp as he took up his post by a tree, senses turned towards the woods around him.

 

The first half of Molly’s watch passed without incident. After years on the road with the carnival, the tiefling knew what sounds to expect of the world after the sun had set. The soft _whoo-whoo_ of owls and _pit-pat_ of small rodents moving through the underbrush caught his attention, but neither sound raised an alarm. A family of roe dear approached the camp, no doubt curious about the strangers in their wood. With barely a rustle of his elaborate coat as he shifted his position, Molly sent the deer into a swift retreat, and once more the night became still around the Mighty Nein.

 

When Molly heard the first snap of a branch, he didn’t feel the need to raise the alarm. Perhaps it was a fox, or the deer had returned, and there was no cause for worry. When the sound of footsteps and noticeably rustling foliage caught his attention, then did the tiefling think to wake the others, keeping his attention on the approaching sound, ready to attack the moment the danger presented itself.

 

He woke Fjord first, glad that the half-orc understood the need for silence, and then he went to wake Beau, hopeful that a finger to his lips would be enough to keep the young woman for grumbling about disturbed rest. Jester and Nott were next, though it was more difficult for them to stay quiet once woken, as Jester was apparently upset that he had interrupted the best dream, something about hamster-sized unicorns and Frumpkin, while Nott went straight over to where Caleb slept, and woke the wizard.

 

As the Mighty Nein prepared themselves for whatever was approaching the camp, Mollymauk drew one of his scimitars, holding it at his side, ready to fight if it came to that. He could hear the steps getting closer—whatever was approaching was moving quickly, either hoping to pounce, or, in what Molly considered the equally likely scenario, outdistance whatever pursued it—and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fjord gesture for the party to draw in, away from the silver perimeter, an order which they obeyed, each in their own time.

 

The footsteps were close now, and Molly found himself counting backwards from five under his breath, his muscles tensing as he prepared for a fight.

 

He had just made it to one when a young woman emerged out of the woods. Out of the corner of his eye, Molly saw Caleb begin one of his spells, while Fjord called his falchion to his hand. She didn’t appear to see the adventuring party, her gaze directed over her shoulder as she closed the space between her and the silver wire, which confirmed that there was something in hot pursuit. This proved to be a fatal mistake, as she stumbled a bit over the wire, her pace faltering as she forced herself to slow down. Once she came to a halt, she as toe-to-toe with Mollymauk, her eyes wide with surprise at the sight of the lavender tiefling, and her hand at her side, where he presumed she kept a weapon of some description.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, giving his head a small shake. He watched as she raised her arms in a gesture of surrender, which he acknowledged with a small dip of his head and a small grin. “That’s better.”

 

“Would you mind telling us what you’re runnin’ from?” Fjord asked, falling in beside Molly, falchion still at the ready, just in case.

 

The girl was silent, still catching her breath, eyes wide like a deer caught in a predator’s sights.

 

For a moment, Molly took his attention from the stranger and turned it towards the woods, listening for any signs of pursuit, and, hearing none, returned his attention to the strange girl. “It’s alright guys,” he said, addressing his fellow travellers while his gaze remained trained on the girl. “There’s nothing behind her, I don’t think, so you can put the crossbow down, Nott.”

 

There was a shrill “sorry” from the goblin girl, and Molly trusted her enough that he didn’t bother to look and see if she had, indeed, put the weapon away.

 

“Now that’s squared away, have you got a name?” Molly gave the girl a quick once-over, noting the unusual grace of her features, paired with the unmistakable roundness of human youth, which led him to the conclusion that she had elven ancestry at some point down the line. What also caught his eye was the pendant she wore, he would swear it was an opal, it seemed, though when he looked again, he was met with the dull glint of metal.

 

 _Curious_.

 

She hesitated before speaking— as if she’d forgotten her name for a moment, or, more likely, was on the verge of giving a false one. “Linnet,” she said, her voice small, her accent one that the tiefling, for all his travel with the carnival, couldn’t place. She glanced over her shoulder again, and then back at Molly, her gaze darting beyond the tiefling, no doubt to the motley group gathered behind him. She lowered her hands to her side an d took a small, tentative step back. “And…and you are?”

 

With a similar hesitation and a small smile, Molly stepped back, adding a small flourish. “The Mighty Nein.”

 

“The Mighty Nein,” she repeated, giving a slow nod.

 

It was clear in the light cast by Caleb’s magic lights (how had Molly failed to notice the wizard’s approach?) that the girl was a bit dazed, whether from running or from a prior skirmish. From what Molly could see, her lip was split, and there was a gash running up her forearm, and her pendant had become an opal again, glinting with a myriad of colors.

 

“You look like shit,” Jester pointed out, pushing past Caleb and Molly so she could see the newcomer. The blue tiefling’s comment—or perhaps it was the twitch of a smile that helped—didn’t seem to put off the young woman. “What happened?”

 

“Jester, calm down,” Fjord said, dispelling his falchion. He turned his attention to Linnet, whose eyes remained wide, not so much anymore with surprise as awe, and, if Molly wasn’t mistaken, a trace of fear. “Why don’t we let Linnet rest, though I wouldn’t mind hearing her story myself.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been considering for a while to see how an OC i'm working on would fit into Critical Role, and the second campaign's party has given me a pretty good idea. Hope you all enjoy, and please feel free to leave any comments or criticisms you might have.


	2. Linnet

There was fire. 

There was fire, and there was shouting. 

She didn’t have time to glimpse the attackers as they made their way through the encampment—hers was a smaller troupe, numbering at maybe fifteen if you didn’t count those they’d picked up between there and the most recent town—focused instead on getting free. Without any spells that could be used to aid in pushing back the invaders, she could only hide, or get away from the worst of it.

As she sought a hiding place, among the carts, perhaps, she caught a glimpse of her mentor, a tiefling whose horns glinted as the light caught the fire opals that hung from them, fire opals like the one that hung around her neck. For a moment she stood captivated by the grace with which they dealt blows to oncoming attackers, marveling at the grace with which the tiefling moved, dealing blow after blow with their rapier. 

She remembered this moment very clearly, and the one that followed, the bandit (for surely they were bandits who had chosen to attack the troupe, and nothing more unusual than that) sneaking up behind her. He had hoped to pin her arms behind her, keep her from lashing out, but the thrall of her mentor’s magic was broken just in time for her to twist free. With the movement came a searing pain along her arm, and she cried out, her scream forming a shrill note that called forth her magic lights, which she sent for her attacker’s eyes, allowing her to distance herself properly. 

Her mentor called her name, and she remembered watching them approach and hand her a familiar rapier—nothing like what she’d practiced with, but familiar nonetheless. “Go,” they said in Infernal, fixing the rapier to her belt and tucking it under the dark blue sash she wore around her waist. “Run and keep running. You know where you’ll find us.” 

She’d opened her mouth to protest. These were her people, her family—she wanted to stay and defend them. She didn’t know where to go, where to meet them.

Her mentor seemed to sense her hesitation, and, with a firm grip on her shoulders, turned her towards the wood that lay off in the distance, and gave her a shove. “Go!” they said again, their body beginning to ripple, like an illusion dissolving. “Fly away little bird, fly away.”

 

She remembered running to the woods, praying to every god she could name that this would end well, that she would not be followed and that her troupe would survive this. They had a fighting chance, she was sure. Between her mentor and the other performers, not to mention the two wizards and the monk that had joined the troupe at least for this stretch of road, they should have been able to defeat whatever attacked them. 

That had been her plan, to hide in the tree line until the fight was over, and rejoin her family. From the tree line, she could just barely see the fires started by the attackers—she remembered the image well, like beacons on a hill—though her fear had carried her far enough she couldn’t hear any of the shouting anymore. 

It seemed safe enough, but it seemed that night, the gods were not smiling upon her or her folk, and a few from the raiding party trailed after her, pushing her deeper into the woods, further away from the troupe. Recalling a spell her mentor had showed her, she began a low note in the back of her throat, directing the wave of force behind her with a flat palm. Judging from the cry she heard, that was likely enough to do away with her pursuers, or at least deter them.

Not daring to look back, she kept running, her blood roaring in her ears as each footfall jarred her body. She was hardly aware of the pain in her arm, panic dulling her sense of pain for the time being. Too focused on getting away from the fighting, she paid no mind to where she went in the wood, until she stumbled into a clearing, her foot catching on some sort of wire. She recovered herself with ease, and found herself standing toe-to-toe with a tiefling who reminded her eerily of her mentor—had his skin been peacock blue instead of lavender, she would swear they were one in the same. 

There were others with him—as the pounding in her head stopped, she was able to see that. A half-orc wielding a sword she couldn’t discern the nature of from a single glance was the first she noticed, followed by a woman who was squinting to see through the cover of night, but held herself at the ready nonetheless, and finally, a blue tiefling of similar stature to herself. Another moment, and she noticed a shabbily-dressed man with a bright-eyed cat by his side, followed by a…it was either a halfling girl or a goblin (though she seriously doubted the latter) who seemed to melt into the shadows slightly.

Without much thought, her hand went to the rapier at her side, though she froze the moment the lavender tiefling spoke. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, giving his head a small shake, and she saw the ornaments that hung from his horns catch what little light there was.

She noticed the scimitar that he held at his side, and figuring it would be no match against her meager ability with the rapier, she raised her hands in surrender. 

This elicited a small grin from the tiefling. “That’s better,” he said, acknowledging her gesture of surrender with a small dip of his head. 

The half-orc moved closer to the tiefling, his strange sword held at his side, but still ready. “Would you mind telling us what you’re runnin’ from?” he asked, his voice a drawl that she couldn’t quite place. 

Her chest ached as she caught her breath, too winded to answer with “I wish I knew,” because, in all honesty, she had no idea what had attacked her troupe, nor was she in a position to find out. 

The tiefling’s red gaze left her for a moment, then turned back to her. “It’s alright,” he said, his words addressed to the group gathered behind him, and not her, though she remained at the center of her attention—a place she figured was perhaps a bad place to be. “There’s nothing behind her, I don’t think, so you can put the crossbow down, Nott.” 

There was a shrill “sorry” from the halfling (goblin?) girl, and the sound of someone moving to lower a weapon. 

“Now that’s squared away, have you got a name?” 

She felt his attention focus back on her, assessing her, the way her mentor had when they first met her. She wondered what he was looking for—he would find her heritage clearly enough in her features, if that was what he wanted to know, to know what she was—and, in a split decision, she wrapped her mentor’s stone in a small illusion. 

It took her a while to register his question, at which point she found herself hesitating. She wasn’t sure why, as she only had one name that she used now, but she hesitated all the same, and no doubt the tiefling noticed. “Linnet,” she said, her voice quiet and unsupported. She chanced a look at the others before she returned her attention to the tiefling. “And…and you are?”

The tiefling hesitated—he was mocking her, she could see it in his eyes, and in the way his lip curled into a smile, exposing pointed canines. “The Mighty Nein,” he said, stepping back with a small flourish, which, on any other occasion would have elicited laughter, or at least a smile from the girl, but she found no energy or cause for such thing. 

“The Mighty Nein,” she repeated, acknowledging the introduction with a small nod of her own. 

The shabbily-dressed man had stepped forward, a singular light (not unlike her own, she noted), floating in his hand, and she found herself once more under the scrutiny of the group. 

“You look like shit,” the blue-skinned tiefling remarked, pushing her way to the front of the group. Something in the way she spoke, her bright tone, or the twitch of a smile in the corner of her mouth, made the words sting less than they perhaps should have, or the half-elf girl was just too worn out of care. 

“Jester, calm down,” the half-orc said, and his sword vanished, much to her surprise. He turned her attention to the half-elf girl, and it was all she could do not to shy away. “Why don’t we let Linnet rest, though I wouldn’t mind hearing her story myself.” 

The half-orc was right—she was in need of a rest, or at least, she needed to sit down, and her arm needed tending to, that was for certain— and the rest of the group seemed to concur. There was no chance of her returning to her troupe anytime soon, and she knew she only had so much magic to draw upon if she tried to keep going without a rest of some sort. 

“What were you running from anyway?” the human woman asked, arms crossed in front of her. “We won’t have to worry about it down the line, will we?” 

“I…I don’t know,” came Linnet’s answer. She tried to recall—it was recent enough, she should’ve remembered—but she couldn’t. She remembered the fire, her mentor’s words to here, and her flight through the woods, but little else. It frightened her, not remembering, not being able to tell the Mighty Nein what had happened. “I…I didn’t see them…”

“Hey, hey,” the lavender tiefling said, his voice warm, no longer threatening, as it’d been earlier. He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and led her away from the perimeter of the camp, towards the smoldering embers of a campfire. “You’re with friends now.”


	3. Around the Fire

Caleb wasn’t sure about the girl.

 

She seemed harmless enough, injured and worn out as she was, but the wizard remained doubtful. It could be an act, and they could be falling for it, hook, line, and sinker. He of all people knew that looks could be deceiving, and how easily some people could be fooled.

 

As Molly helped the girl to a seat by the fire, Caleb followed, holding a single one of his dancing lights in his hand so Beau could see well enough to restart the fire a bit. He kept close to the group, trusting his alarm spell to alert him while he watched.

 

Jester seemed to take to the girl immediately, but then again, the blue tiefling had a faith in others that Caleb seemed to lack. He watched as the cleric sat down next to Linnet, taking the girl’s hand in hers to cast Cure Wounds, all the while chattering away, probably about the Traveller, or something just as fantastical. Whatever Jester was talking about, the half-elf didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she seemed interested in what Jester had to say, the stories putting her at ease.

 

He drew closer so he could hear her speak as she related to Mollymauk and the others the events that had brought her to them—that is, all she could remember. She spoke clearly, her voice more steady than it had been moments ago, as she spun her story. The frightened look didn’t leave her dark eyes as she spoke, but she seemed less skittish, less like the frightened creature she had been moments ago.

 

From what he could piece together, the girl belonged to a travelling troupe, not unlike Mollymauk’s carnival folk, and there had been some sort of attack on their camp. The mystery lay in that the girl—for all her apparent storytelling prowess—couldn’t relate the nature of the attack.

 

“I didn’t see who they were,” she said, brows furrowed. “There were…there were a lot of them, more than we can usually handle so, and they set fire to some of the carts, but that’s all…that’s all I know for sure.”

 

“How far from here were your friends camped?” Fjord asked, a crease in his brow as well. While Jester and Mollymauk sat on either side of Linnet, the half-orc remained standing, careful not to obstruct any of the light from the embers they’d managed to stir in the dying fire. “Can you give us a rough idea?”

 

Linnet glanced over her shoulder, towards the direction from whence she’d come, and then returned her attention to Fjord. “A mile, I think,” she said. “Not far…I could see them from the tree line, but barely.”

 

“There’s no harm in going to look for stragglers once it’s light,” Molly said, looking to Beau and Fjord as he spoke, then back at the girl. “Why don’t you get some shut eye, and we’ll go check it out first thing in the morning.”

 

Linnet nodded. “Thank you,” she said, though something in her tone—the lack of finality, perhaps—suggested there was more she had to say. Instead, her hand went to the pendant around her neck, and then fell into her lap.

 

“You can have one of my blankets,” Jester offered, darting over to her bedroll to retrieve a woolen blanket, which she handed to Linnet. “Beau thinks I have too many anyway.”

 

“Do not,” Beau said, shaking her head.

 

Linnet took the blanket with a small nod of thanks, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said again, standing. “I…”

 

Jester took Linnet by the hand, leading her over to her bedroll. “You can bunk with me! I don’t think we can both fit on the bedroll, but we can try, and even if not, you’ll be warm.”

 

“Now Jester…” There was a warning tone in Fjord’s voice, and Caleb wondered if the warlock was as wary of the girl as he was.

 

“It’s alright,” Linnet said, shaking her head. “I can sleep on the ground. It’s…It’s far enough from winter, ground shouldn’t be too hard so.”

 

It was a moment before Fjord shrugged. “If you say so,” he said. He looked to Molly. “I’ll take next watch- might as well make the trade now.”

 

The lavender tiefling nodded, the faint light winking off the ornaments that adorned his horns. “If you’re sure.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Daybreak

The rest of the night passed without incident, and, just as she’d done for the last fifteen years of her life, Linnet rose with the sun.

It took a while for her to register that something was amiss. After years spent travelling with her troupe, she was accustomed to waking in close proximity to others—more out of necessity for warmth than anything else, and that was only among the more permanent members—and so she wasn’t alarmed when she awoke to find a blue arm draped across her stomach. A few moments passed, and the events of the previous night caught up to her.

 _You need to go,_ said a voice in the back of her head. _If there’s anyone left behind, they’ll be moving by now, and they’ll leave you behind unless you catch up._

She needed to get back to her troupe. Her mentor had been wrong- she didn’t know where they’d be going next, she wasn’t sure where to find them. If she didn’t want to be left behind, she needed to move now.

With as much care as she could muster, Linnet got up and started readying herself to go. She made sure the rapier was secure at her side before tying the sash around her waist. She took a moment to admire the way the sunrise reflected off of the iridescent blue fabric, the colors shifting even as she stood still.

As she readied herself to set out, she cast a glance around the camp. From what she could see, the Mighty Nein were, for the most part, asleep. The blue tiefling- Jester, Linnet remembered she was called- was still sound asleep, already pulling the blanket Linnet had used the night before back over her body. Across from Jester, the half-orc was lying on his side, and, not far from him was the human woman, who lay on her back with her arms beneath her head, snoring lightly. The russet-haired man had become little more than a heap of blanket and a coat, with his cat tucked against his side, eyes watching Linnet.

“I’ve got to go,” she told the cat in a low voice, though why she bothered to talk to the cat was beyond her. She knew it was wrong to sneak off like this, after the Nein had taken her in for the night and promised to help her find her people, but if she waited any longer, she might miss her chance.

She cast one last look at the sleeping camp and headed for the silvery perimeter, her mind already turned towards finding her troupe again.

“Where’re you going?” asked a shrill voice, catching Linnet off guard just as she was about to step over the silver wire.

The voice, Linnet realized, belonged to the halfling girl (or was she a goblin? There was a greenish tint to her skin, so perhaps she was hiding something), Nott, she thought she’d been called. She was the only one Linnet hadn’t counted among the sleeping figures around the burnt out fire, so of course it only made sense that she was now standing before her, yellow eyes narrowed.

“I…I…I’m just going for a walk so.” The lie brought a bitter taste to her mouth as soon as it was spoken- there was no need to lie, and yet she had. But what other choice did she have but to lie? She needed to leave, and as kind as the Mighty Nein were, she wasn’t going to overstay her welcome.

She knew performing folk were rarely welcome—in the years spent with her troupe, she’d been run out of her fair share of towns and villages for any number of reasons—and even if they were, it wasn’t for any significant period of time. They could welcome in as many as they liked, offering the safety of numbers on the occasionally treacherous roads of the Dwendalian Empire and the lands that lay beyond, lands Linnet herself had never been to, but aside from that, few were truly welcoming.

“Can I come with you then?” Yellow eyes widened, pleading.

“Shouldn’t you stay and keep watch?” She didn’t want Nott following her, and she couldn’t afford to delay. “I won’t be long.”

Nott only stared at her, and Linnet wondered for a moment if she was being judged.

As the early morning light broke through the remaining foliage, Linnet could just see the green skin that she knew belonged to a goblin peeking out between the bandages that crisscrossed Nott’s face. The porcelain mask that caused Linnet’s earlier confusion no doubt obscured the needle-like teeth that made goblins notorious hunters, and, Linnet had to admit, it was a clever disguise, something her brother might admire (he always had a fondness for disguises, a fondness Linnet herself didn’t share).

“You’re a goblin,” she blurted, eyes wide.

“And you’re running off.” The goblin’s tone was matter-of-fact, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t seem affected by Linnet’s observation, at least in the moment. If anything, she seemed suspicious of Linnet, and with good reason. “What’re you up to?”

 _No point in lying now,_ Linnet thought, biting her lip. “I’m going to look for my friends,” she said, careful to keep her voice low. “Thank you for letting me sleep here, but I ought to be on my way.”

“Nonsense.” There was the faint tinkle of metal and gems as the lavender tiefling approached, almost catching Linnet off guard. He came and placed an arm around Linnet’s shoulder—in a friendly way, but also in a way that very clearly conveyed the message of _stay put_. “We said we’d help you, and I, at least, intend to keep my word.”

Linnet didn’t make a move to pull away from the tiefling, smart enough to know when she was outmatched, and, after last night, not overly keen to start a fight she knew she couldn’t finish. _Let me go_ , she thought, _I need to find my family_.

“And find them we will,” the tiefling said, giving Linnet a pat on the shoulder before releasing her, though he didn’t take a step away, as one might expect. “Just be patient, alright? Soon as everyone’s up, we’ll get moving.”

 _Gods above_. It’d been a while since Linnet had accidentally cast a cantrip, though of all times, why now? At least it was only Message, and at least the accidental message was a relatively harmless one. No doubt the lavender tiefling found it all very amusing.

“I caught her trying to run off,” Nott said, her earlier hostility fading. “She thought she’d get away, but I—”

“Hey, that’s enough, Nott,” the tiefling said, holding up a hand. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you wake up the others, so we can get this show of the road, alright? Atta girl.”

“Alright,” the goblin said, glancing at Linnet one last time. _I’ve got my eye on you,_ she said, and her yellow eyes seemed to narrow for a moment. _Don’t try anything funny_. Without waiting for a response, she left Linnet and the tiefling standing by the edge of the camp, off to wake the others.

Linnet watched Nott leave them, and then turned her attention to the tiefling, realizing she didn’t know his name. “You never told me your name,” she said, still keeping her voice low.

“Why don’t you stick around a bit, and I’ll tell you.”

“I told you mine, it’s only fair,” she pointed out, feeling very much like a child. She knew her brother might say she was acting like a child, but now was not the time to be thinking about that.

The tiefling laughed. “Very well,” he said, lips curling into a wry smile. “Since you seem so insistent, my name is Mollymauk.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mollymauk,” Linnet said, trying to determine the strange familiarity that the name brought about.

It was a name she had heard before, whether in person, or only in passing. She knew she hadn’t met the tiefling before—it was impossible to forget a face such as his, with the elaborate tattoos and jewelry—though, when travelling on the road with her troupe, it wasn’t unusual to hear stories of other troupes. There was one troupe she’d heard tell of from some of the more senior members of the troupe, a troupe with a corpulent lizardfolk man (her mentor swore the creature was not lizardfolk, but said no more) and a woman with hair like fire, who one member swore was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. That particular troupe seemed like one that Mollymauk belonged to, or had some association with, though Linnet knew she was unlikely to find out.

“Now that we’re properly acquainted, care to tell me why you’re sneaking off? Jester didn’t scare you, did she?”

She shook her head. “No, she didn’t, I promise,” she said, “I…I need to get back to my troupe.”

“And you will,” Mollymauk said, glancing over his shoulder at the camp where the rest of the Mighty Nein were stirring. “We said we’d help, and we will. Just don’t try and run off, yeah?”

At this point, what choice did she have? Linnet had tried to sneak away, and she’d been caught. In all honesty, she should’ve expected this, as she wasn’t as gifted with sneaking and deceit as her brother was. She much preferred to distract and talk around the truth, but only if she had to.

“Alright,” she said, burying her worry beneath the usual bright exterior she was used to wearing. It wouldn’t do to be anxious; being nervous was never a bad thing, but she knew well enough that too many nerves could mess up a performance and lead to mistakes.

Mollymauk gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Good. Now let’s get some breakfast before we go find your friends. If we’re lucky, Jester might leave some pastries for you.”


	5. Setting Out

As soon as breakfast was passed around (breakfast consisting of traveler’s rations and a day-old donut, courtesy of Jester), they set out, as the half-orc had promised Linnet they would. 

It was by no means a long journey. It wasn’t very far to the edge of the wood where Linnet had sought shelter the night before, and there was very little to hinder their journey.

As they made their way closer to the tree line, Linnet kept an eye out for anything that could have been her attackers the night before. Finding nothing, she found herself praying for her troupe’s safety, and praying that she would be reunited with them soon. 

She wasn’t sure how long she could continue on her own (perhaps she wasn’t alone at the moment, but the gods only knew how long the Mighty Nein would want to keep her around, as kind as they seemed to be), at least for however long it took her to find her people again. Her mentor had told her she would know where to find them, but the troupe were wondering folk, and they went where the wind blew them, performed, earned coin for sharing their talents, and then left again. The only time their destinations were set was when they had folk her mentor referred to as “passengers,” and those destinations could be anywhere.

Magic would fix the problem, or at least set her on the right path, but she wasn’t yet strong enough, nor was she certain she could learn the kind of spells needed to find people. She knew people who could (the panther-like tabaxi who traveled with the troupe for example, Linnet knew to be skilled in divination magic, as cynical as she was in the practical application of it), but she was none of those people, nor did she have them to learn from.

For the entirety of the journey, she kept to the front of the group between the half-orc, whose name she learned was Fjord, and Mollymauk. As they trekked through the wood, Jester bounded from the back to chat with Linnet. 

The blue tiefling chattered on about her god, an entity she called the Traveler, and how she had met him when she was little and living in Nicodranas. She told Linnet about one of the adventures the Nein’d had, a month or so ago by now, where they killed a demon toad that was turning people into zombies. 

“Jester, settle down a little,” Fjord said, finding a seat on a fallen log. “Let’s take a quick break, rest a bit.”

They’d been traveling for just over an hour and a half, by Linnet’s figuring, and while she knew a break would be sensible, they were right at the tree line, and she wanted to press on. There was no time to waste. If need be, she could continue on her own to where her troupe had been camping. 

“Hold your horses,” Mollymauk said, as if he could sense her plan (or perhaps it was written on her face and in the tilt of her body—her brother always said she was easily read). “I know you can probably keep going, but we’ve got folks who aren’t sort to the kind of travel we are.” 

“I know my way from here,” she said, glancing at the tree line, and at the grassy stretch that she knew lead to the road beyond. Every moment spent in delay was another moment her troupe (or what remained of them, gods only knew what toll the attack had taken on their numbers) would be moving away from her, which would only complicate her situation. “You don’t understand…I need to…to…” 

“To find them, I know.” Mollymauk had wrapped an arm around her shoulder and was leading her to the same log Fjord had settled himself on. “And we will, but just take a moment and rest.”

“Do you know where your folks’re headed?” Fjord glanced over at her. His glance was not unkind, but Linnet could see calculation of some sort in the way he looked at her. “In case there’s no one when we go to where you saw them last.” 

“There’ll be someone there,” she said, forcing confidence into her voice. She saw Fjord’s eyes narrow, judging the truth of her words—could one lie when one didn’t know the truth? “They’ll know I’m missing. My mentor…my mentor told me to hide in the woods, that they’d be there when it was safe.” 

“That is more or less what she said last night,” Jester chimed in, nodding. In one hand was another pastry from her haversack, and crumbs from the same treat on the front of her dress, though it didn’t seem to bother her. 

“More or less.” The human woman (Linnet had heard Mollymauk call her Beau earlier) leaned forward on her staff, dark eyes fixated on Linnet. “Doesn’t sound like a full truth to me.” 

“Now Beau, she’s told us her story, and I think we’ve decided that on the whole, she’s nothing to worry about.” Fjord shook his head. “Besides, once she finds her folks, we’ll go our separate ways.” 

Fjord’s words were echoed in a solemn nod from Jester, and a quiet “exactly,” from Mollymauk, but that didn’t seem to appease Beau. 

Linnet was unsure what to do, really. She could understand where Beau was coming from, and she knew that none of these adventurers had any reason to trust her. Part of her wanted to speak up and defend herself, while the other part wanted no more than to cease the conflict by making the remainder of the journey herself. It wasn’t far, but it was far to go on her own.

“We said we’d help her find her people, and that is what we’re going to do,” Mollymauk said, ignoring the resulting sounds of protest from Beau. Behind him, his tail flicked in dismissal, as if to say, that’s the final decision. “Just hold on for a bit longer, yeah?”

“Alright,” Beau mumbled, clutching her staff. “But if anything comes to bite us in the ass because if it, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“We’ll keep it in mind,” came Molly’s reply. He glanced at the others—the shabby human and his cat, as well as Nott, which were both sitting on a stump, the goblin girl drinking from a flask —and then at the open field ahead. “Why don’t we continue on, hm? It isn’t that much further, I don’t think.”


	6. Scrutiny

The girl smelled of fear. It was written all across her body, in the twitch of her fingers, in the tension of her shoulders—Nott knew what fear looked like, and she saw it in Linnet.

 

At first it had been a wild frenzied fear, a deer separated from its herd, or a young fledgling from its parents. Yes, the girl’s fear was more birdlike, just as she was birdlike herself. She was slight and Nott had seen it in her eyes, the need to run away, to be somewhere else, somewhere not there, in the clearing with the rest of the Mighty Nein.

 

A few words with Molly, and the girl’s fear had settled.

 

Nott wondered if the tiefling had used a spell on her, the way he had with Nott their first time in Zadash, but she didn’t think to ask. She was tired, and the new arrival had disturbed her sleep.

 

Before they returned to their respective bedrolls (not far from each other; Nott never slept far from her boy), Nott had sent a message to Caleb, asking if he trusted the girl. A brief hesitation, followed by a shake of the wizard’s head and a reply of _no_ was all that the goblin woman needed to know she and her friend were in agreement.

 

And then it came time for Nott to take the watch.

 

She’d been at her post for almost an hour when she heard the sound of footsteps. The only early risers amongst the Nein were Molly, and Yasha, when she was with them, and the soft chime of metal and precious stones always accompanied Molly, while this set of footsteps was more quiet, more calculated.

 

The girl was sneaking away, and while Nott didn’t care—if she wanted to sneak away, then let her, rather than keep her where she didn’t want to be—she knew Molly and Fjord would reprimand her for letting the stranger get away like this. And so she spoke up, spooking the girl.

 

She saw it in those dark eyes, the surprise, and, more importantly, the guilt, as if she didn’t want to sneak away like some sort of thief. She was no thief—Nott could see in the way she dressed and the way she spoke, she was no thief.

 

She was dressed simply, in a pale blue tunic (now showing some signs of conflict, but nowhere near as worn-out as Caleb’s coat, for instance) with fawn breeches that only came mid-calf, with a sash of shimmering, deep blue tied around her waist. If anything, she was an entertainer, part of a flock of loudly-colored birds, as Mollymauk had been before their meeting at Trostenwald. The pendant around her neck caught Nott’s eye especially, for it shone like fire, especially in the sunrise. She couldn’t help but wonder, was it magic (if so, she would give it to Caleb), or was it just the stone that made it look that way?

 

Whatever the case, the girl was lost, separated from her flock. Maybe that was why Molly had taken a liking to her, because they were cut from the same cloth, and he pitied her.

 

“You’re a goblin.”

 

The way she said it wasn’t accusatory, as Nott was used to hearing. Rather, it was a mere statement of fact, though it was a fact Nott considered to be rude, even in familiar company.

 

“And you’re running off,” the goblin woman had returned in the same statement-of-fact tone, eyes narrowing. She wondered if the girl was at all frightened by the fact that she was a goblin, or if she was simply confused.

 

A moment, and the girl admitted that she was running off, but then Molly was there, telling Nott to leave the stranger alone. Nott, of course, complied, but not before sending a message to the girl, a warning, that Nott had her eye on her, and there would be no tolerance for any funny business.

 

They set off, travelling in silence except for Jester, who, as Jester often did, was eager to tell the half-elf girl all about the Traveller.

 

From her place in the back of the marching order with Caleb and Beau, Nott could hear her, telling the girl about the Traveller and Nicodranas and the Nein’s run in with the demon-toad. There was no harm in these stories, not at all—stories were, after all, the best way to pass the time on the road—but Nott could tell it was agitating Beau.

 

The monk was the hardest for Nott to read (though she admittedly was not good at reading people, not like Caleb and Molly were), with a tendency to project an air of _I don’t care, leave me the fuck alone_ , which generally put people off. Nott didn’t mind her, since once they’d gotten to know each other they were close enough, and Beau’s brusque manner didn’t rub Nott the wrong way. She was good at reading people, and she never seemed to betray herself until just the right moment.

 

Through several castings of Message, Nott conveyed to Caleb the events of that morning. She asked if the pendant around the girl’s neck was magical, only to be met with an “I don’t know” from the wizard.

 

When Fjord called for a break, Nott and Caleb found a stump that they could both fit onto, with Frumpkin curled up in Caleb’s lap. Nott took a moment to take a sip from her flask, more out of force of habit than anything else. The mixture of liquor was strong, and had Nott a taste for finer things, perhaps it would’ve made her nose wrinkle, but what did she know of fine ales and beers?

 

And then Beau spoke up, and accused the girl of lying.

 

Nott watched the girl for a reaction. You could usually tell if someone was lying, especially if you pointed it out, and so Nott took it upon herself to watch the girl for any telltale signs.

 

Once more, a look of fear crossed the girl’s face as she glanced from Molly to Beau, then over to Fjord. She was thinking—Nott could see it in the small furrow of her brow, in the tight line of her lips. It was Fjord who smoothed the situation over, and the half-elf girl remained quiet, not bothering to defend herself. She let the others speak for her, rather than speak herself.

 

“If anything comes to bite us in the ass, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Beau said with a huff, and Nott gave a small nod of agreement. She was willing to give the girl a chance, that much was true, but she wouldn’t hesitate if the girl’s actions brought any harm to the Nein, or, more importantly, to Nott herself and Caleb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get Nott's perspective of things in some, and try my hand at writing with Nott's voice., so that's what is going on here. As always, reviews are always welcomed and highly encouraged.


	7. Lost

“How much further?”

Linnet had taken the lead, with Mollymauk close behind, followed by Fjord and the rest of the group. After their break, Linnet had been insistent on taking the lead, but Molly kept a close distance, watching her carefully.

 

Molly didn’t think the girl would bolt—she hardly seemed like the type, more skittish than anything—and even if she did, there was no doubt that one of the Nein would be able to catch her in time. Still, he kept close, eyes scanning the open stretch beyond the tree line as they made their way towards the road, searching for any sign of danger. The others would be keeping an eye out as well, and no doubt Linnet was as well.

 

“Not much further,” came her answer, the confidence of her voice wavering.

 

He wasn’t sure what to make of it. She was lost, there was no question of that, and he was confident that she’d been separated from her troupe in a skirmish with a foe she couldn’t remember the name or face of. He knew how it felt, to be separated from a group he’d considered family for as long as his memory went back (which admittedly wasn’t that far, but the point stood), and he wanted to see her reunited with her people as soon as possible.

 

There was no plan for if they didn’t find her people in the next hour or so, but she seemed confident that they would find some remainder of her group—she’d mentioned her mentor, which was hopeful. If they didn’t find her troupe, Molly wasn’t sure what would happen.

 

With any luck, they would put it to a vote, whether or not to help the girl. Molly knew if it came to that, his vote would be for, and it was likely Fjord and Jester would vote the same, while Beau (who clearly didn’t trust the girl—with good reason, perhaps, but Molly knew it was partially her being a grump about it) was likely to vote no. As for Caleb and Nott, Molly wasn’t sure. If this morning was anything to judge by, Nott’s trust in Linnet went only so far, and Caleb was likely to share that opinion, since it was unlikely Nott kept anything from the wizard.

 

A little while longer and they came to what was clearly the remains of a camp, judging by the heaps of scorched canvas that had probably been tents for housing the troupe on the road, as well as the scorched remains of a cart. Linnet had stopped dead in her tracks, surveying the area around her.

 

Nott was already darting among the ruins, doing so cautiously, but inspecting the rubble closely (and searching for trinkets as she went, no doubt). “I don’t see anybody,” she reported, returning to Molly’s side and looking up at him, as if to ask What next? She then looked at Linnet. “Your mentor…They’re not invisible, are they?”

 

There was a nervous sound from Fjord, but Molly chose to ignore it, more focused on the task at hand.

 

It took a moment for Linnet to answer. She seemed absorbed by her surroundings, her brow furrowed as if she were searching for some sort of sign. “They…They can cast a spell to become invisible,” she said, a bit of pride in her voice. “Perhaps…” Her dark eyes lit up, and Molly saw her take a deep breath. “Puck! Puck?”

 

She fell silent, as did the Mighty Nein, listening for an answer.

 

Nothing

 

If this Puck person was indeed invisible, surely they would have revealed themselves by now? In all likelihood, they wanted to be reunited with their student, and therefore wouldn’t hesitate, unless, of course, they deemed the Nein a threat.

 

Linnet drew another breath. “Puck?” she called, and Molly could hear the distress in her voice, like a child separated from its mother (gods knew he’d heard plenty of that working for the carnival), though not as plainly obvious—yet. She wasn’t going to give up easily, and he had to admit, he admired that. “Puck?”

 

Still nothing.

 

“Hey listen, I hate to be the one to say so, but maybe whatever ambushed you…maybe it, you know, got your mentor,” Fjord said, drawing closer to the girl, as if to somehow shelter her from his words.

 

“No,” Linnet said, shaking her head, and she took a step forward, away from Fjord and Molly. “No, no, no. They’re not. They wouldn’t be…They can’t be!”

 

Dark eyes flashed with a mix of emotion—Molly saw anger, denial, and, oddly enough, fear in her eyes—and a hand darted up to the opal pendant, seeking reassurance, perhaps, form the stone. Her gaze darted around the remains of the campsite, and she took a few stumbling steps towards a heap of charred canvas before sinking to her knees, her gaze fixed dead ahead.

 

“Great,” Beau muttered, earning a sharp glare from Jester, as well as an elbow in the ribs from the normally even-keeled cleric. “What was that for?”

 

“Be nice,” Molly heard Jester hiss.

 

Molly felt his heart sink at the sight of the half-elf girl sitting amongst the rubble, staring at something he himself couldn’t see. He wasn’t sure if it was because he knew how to read people, or because he knew the emotion himself, but whatever the case, he could see the sudden fear and loneliness, the kind where you feel you’re the only thing in the universe, in the girl’s features.

 

Without much thought, he went and crouched in front of Linnet, so he and the half-elf girl were eye to eye. He could see she’d been crying, and he was relieved to find that her eyes didn’t have the faraway look of someone completely removed from their body. Once he was sure she’d seen him, he placed a hand gently on her shoulder, which got her attention.

 

“They’re gone,” she said, her voice quiet, with the faintest waver to it. “They left me behind.”

 

“Hey,” Mollymauk said, his voice gentle, but with enough firmness to keep her attention. “They’re not gone. They’re performing folk, right? They have to keep moving around—it’s part of who we are, Linnet—but that doesn’t mean we can’t find them.”

 

She shook her head. “Puck said I’d know where to find them, but I don’t. I was too scared to say I didn’t, and now I’ll never see them again.”

 

“Listen to me, alright?” Molly made sure that he had her full attention, that her eyes met his. “Take a deep breath, and calm down, yeah? I need you to look at me, and take a deep breath. You get nowhere by letting this happen—believe me.”

 

He waited for her to slow her breathing, and once he was sure she was calming down, he took both her hands in his. It was something he remembered Yasha doing, when he would have moments like this, and he remembered how calm he had felt after, and hoped the gesture translated for the girl.

 

 _I don’t want to be alone_ , he heard the girl say, her voice echoing in the back of his mind, similar to how it did when Nott cast her Message spell, though this time, the message was delivered in Infernal, rather than Common.

 

“And you won’t be,” he told her, switching to Infernal himself. He didn’t bother to look for the others’ reactions—right now, his focus was on Linnet. “We’ll find them, I’m sure. They can’t have travelled very far, now can they?”

 

She shrugged.

 

“Alright then,” Molly said, pulling Linnet gently to her feet. “Why don’t you dry your eyes a bit, and we’ll pick a direction, and head that way, hm? Or you can come with us to Zadash, and we can see if anyone there can help you. How does that sound?”

 

Her eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Zadash, which had Mollymauk hopeful that perhaps their answer would be found in Zadash, if not on the way to the metropolis. “Alright,” she said, speaking once more in Common, her voice quiet as she did so. “You won’t mind?”

 

Mollymauk glanced at the rest of the Nein, who were occupied either with scouring the ruins or, as Fjord was, watching the exchange take place. Beau might take some convincing, but otherwise, he saw no reason why she shouldn’t join them. It would only be for a short while, anyways, and, really, what was the worst that could happen?

 

“Of course not,” he said, grinning. “Beau might kick up a fuss, but if she hits you, hit her right back—got it?”


	8. Acceptance

It didn’t take long for Linnet to compose herself, and when she did, she stood, surveying the remainder of her troupe’s camp. 

She counted the wagons that remained—two, both damaged beyond use—and weighed it against the six she knew the troupe travelled with. She thanked the gods as she did, that, by some miracle, they had gotten away, with the wagons and the horses (she saw no equine corpses, and so counted the horses as having survived the skirmish, no doubt thanks to their handlers), even if most of the tents lay in ruin. For moment, she contemplated scavenging through what remained of the campsite for supplies, as she only had the clothes on her back and no money to speak of. 

There were ways she could earn coin, should she need to, but she didn’t want to join the Mighty Nein empty handed. It was poor form, to ask for protection on the road without having something substantial to offer. Those who traveled with the troupe offered their skills as healers, or fighters, if it ever came down to it, and in return, the troupe offered them protection on the road with no attached fees.

“Are we just going to hang around here all day, or what?” Beau asked, kicking the ground. “We’ve been here almost an hour—shouldn’t we be hitting the road?” 

“Be patient,” Linnet heard Mollymauk say to the human woman. Once she’d composed herself, the tiefling had resolved to give her space, though she felt his red eyes on her as she investigated what remained. While she was glad for the tiefling’s support, she wondered where it came from, why he chose to defend her when they both knew he owed her nothing.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for.” Beau was addressing Linnet now, and out of the corner of her eye, Linnet saw the human’s blue eyes fixated on her. “If they’re not here, they’re either dead or moved on.”

“They said they’d wait for me.”

It was a lie, it was very much a lie, but a small, childishly stubborn part of Linnet didn’t want Beau to be right. Part of her wanted it to be the case, that Puck had said they would wait, and circumstances had forced them to move on. 

“Yeah, well maybe they decided not to.” 

“Beauregard.” There was a warning in Mollymauk’s voice as he said her name, and Linnet caught the agitated flick of Mollymauk’s tail, lashing back and forth like a cat about to catch a hand in its claws. “Enough.” 

“All I’m saying is maybe they decided they were better off leaving her.” Beau shrugged, as if she didn’t care how she might come across. 

Molly let out a long sigh, his tail giving one more agitated flick before he grasped Beau by the shoulder. “Can you at least put a cork in it for now? That’s not too much to ask, is it?” 

“Whatever.” She fixed Linnet with a hard glare, which Linnet turned to meet. Linnet couldn’t tell if it was distrust, disgust, or straight up dislike that she saw in Beau’s eyes, but she got the woman’s message, loud and clear. “So what’re we doing with her?”

“We can’t leave her, Beau!” Jester interjected, appearing at Mollymauk’s side, the half-orc not far behind. “She needs to find her family, and, and, we said we’d help her.” 

“We said we’d look for stragglers, not travel the entire Empire to find some circus.” Beau crossed her arms in front of her, still watching Linnet closely. “We can’t drag her around if she’s going to be a liability.”

“Beau, why don’t we get to the next town and then we can debate this, rather than stay out in the open, bickering?” The half-orc (along with Mollymauk) seemed to be the voice of reason for the Mighty Nein, and Linnet was glad that he chose to intervene. Even though she could probably stand her ground just fine, she didn’t feel confident enough to maintain her composure. 

Instead, she found herself casting Message in every direction she could think of; hoping against all hope that Puck, or someone else from the troupe would be in range to hear her. It was unlikely, she knew that, and she also knew that the range of her spell was limited. Still, she pushed against the limited range, trying to stretch it as far as she could, trying to draw on reserves that she knew were better left for emergencies, in hopes that adding some extra power would give her a further reach.

Never any harm in trying, even as she felt a wave of nausea hit her, followed by a light-headedness that was familiar from when she first learned how to shape her magic. Undeterred by the feeling, she continued to press, her attention on sending the same message as far as she could in every direction she could think of.

She couldn’t be alone. They wouldn’t leave her behind, they wouldn’t. She’d been left once, but that betrayal had been softened by the presence of her larger family. Before, she had Puck’s soothing and the distraction of their many lessons to her (that day, they taught her to dance with her lights, she remembered), the new costumes that Tatya had just finished, iridescent satins and stitched patterns of wings and flowers and a cup of tea with the tabaxi fortune-teller, who seemed to sense Linnet’s distress without asking. Now, she had none of that; she was alone.

She felt someone take her hand in theirs and give it a light squeeze, breaking her concentration, and when she looked, Linnet found herself face to face with Jester. 

The tiefling girl’s eyes were wide, a small furrow of worry between them. “We’ll find your family,” she said, the furrow in her brow smoothing over as a smile spread across her lips. “Until we do, though, you can totally join ours!”

“Th…Thank you,” Linnet managed to say, still waiting for the nausea to recede. She took a deep breath, hoping that it’d be enough to dispel the uneasy feeling in her gut. With a small flick of her finger, she told Jester, I don’t think your friends agree.

“Don’t worry about them,” Jester said, taking Linnet’s other hand. “Beau’s always grumpy, and Nott just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Fjord doesn’t mind you, do you Fjord?”

The half-orc (Fjord, Linnet now knew to call him) shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “But we really should be getting a move on. With any luck, we’ll reach a town where we can spend the night, and make plans from there.” 

“See? Fjord agrees, and Molly likes you, and Caleb…” 

“I think she’s got the point, Jester,” Fjord said, glancing around, perhaps keeping an eye out for any potential threats. Once he was satisfied, his gaze rested on Linnet. “We’re heading towards Zadash, if you want to come with, and we’ll see if you can find your folks there.” 

“I…that would be nice,” she said, nodding. She doubted that her troupe would be headed towards Zadash this time of year, and she was hesitant to return after… Still, there was no reason not to accept their help. “They might’ve gone that direction, and if not…I think there’ll be people I can ask.” 

There was only one person she knew would be in Zadash, though even that was a risk to take. For all she knew, he could’ve moved on, looking for greener pastures, and even if he was still there, how was she supposed to find him, and what help could he give her? 

“Perfect!” Jester squeezed Linnet’s hands, the strength of her grasp such that Linnet was afraid that her hands might be crushed. “See? I knew we’d figure something else! You can share a room with me when we get to a town. Of course that means technically you’re sharing with Beau too, technically, but she won’t mind, will you Beau?” 

“What?” The human woman furrowed her brow—Linnet noticed her critical expression had faded, though she still looked like she was glaring at Linnet—and shrugged. “Whatever. But she sleeps on the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read this! Please let me know what you guys think-- if there's anything you like, or anything that needs improvement, it helps immensely for me to know. I think from this part onwards, I"m selectively ignoring events from the campaign, but, as stated in the tags, I will usually put a note at the top of a chapter if I have spoilers from the most recent two episodes or so. 
> 
> Thank you!


	9. Sing For Your Supper

They reached the nearest village well before nightfall, and for that, Caleb was glad.

 

While he didn’t mind the open road (gods knew he was used to it), with the addition of Linnet to their hodgepodge group, the prospect of being attacked on the road was enough to turn his stomach. Sure, he could count on the Mighty Nein in a fight, but what of the girl? She was strange to even he, who knew so much and missed so little, and part of him was reluctant to trust her, though seeing Mollymauk and Fjord at ease around her put him slightly more at ease.

 

Even now, as he watched her chatting with Jester across the table, glasses of milk in front of them both, he couldn’t help but wonder. The two were telling stories—Jester about the adventures of the Nein (leaving out a few bits, of course, like the incident at the High Richter’s estate), while Linnet spun tales of gods and heroes—and at one point, Linnet offered to show Jester a trick her mentor had taught her. Of course, Jester agreed, eyes wide as a child’s on Winters Crest morning, and Caleb watched as the half-elf girl took a breath and sang a simple, four-note scale, and, as each note formed, four globes of light blinked into existence. They hovered in midair for only a moment before converging in pairs and taking on the shape of sparrows, which flitted about Linnet before darting towards Jester.

 

“That was amazing!” Jester said, clapping her hands together. She glanced over at Caleb, eyes still wide. “Did you see that?”

 

“ _Ja_ ,” the wizard replied, watching as Linnet guided the glowing birds around the table. He could see the line of concentration in her brow—of course, such a thing was no easy feat, and he wondered how she’d learned to do something like that. _The best way to find out is to ask_ , he thought, taking a sip of the ale Mollymauk had brought him. “Where did you learn to do that?”

 

The birds disappeared, separating once more into four globes of light, each a different color—silver, powder blue, rose, and the soft purple of thistle flowers—and then, save for one, they all winked out of existence. The remaining globe seemed to shrink, and then settle on Linnet’s shoulder, its soft blue light drawing attention to the opal at her throat.

 

The girl didn’t seem at all threatened by this question—perhaps among her troupe, strange feats of magic were the norm—answering Caleb’s question almost immediately. “Puck—my mentor—taught me,” she said, her hand going to the pendant around her neck, the same pendant Nott had asked him about earlier that day. “I’m…I’m not very good at it, so I can’t hold it for long, but I’m sure with practice I’ll get better. Practice makes perfect and all that.”

 

“Can you do anything else?” Jester asked, leaning forward in her seat, fingers drumming excitedly on the table. “Caleb can make fire. Can you do that?”

 

At the mention of his fire, Caleb shifted uneasily in his seat. He knew fire magic was common, but that didn’t keep it from making him uneasy, especially when Jester brought it up with such pride.

 

Linnet seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then shook her head, her short, ashen curls moving as she did. “No,” she said, lips pressed together, deep in thought. The blue light winked out. “But if you give me a moment so, I can show you something I can do.”

 

“What did you do with your troupe?” It was Nott who asked this question, startling Caleb. “Can you show us that?”

 

Linnet nodded. “I can,” she said, and she left the table, leaving her glass of milk unattended as she went to go speak with the proprietor.

 

Out of habit, and because he was genuinely curious, Caleb sent Frumpkin after her, placing his hand over Nott’s before he focused on seeing things through the fey cat’s eyes and hearing through his ears. The cat found his way through the tavern easily—beasts like him were tolerated, if not entirely embraced for their mouse catching services—and for the most part was left undisturbed until it came to sit by Linnet’s feet.

 

“Excuse me,” he heard Linnet say, her voice small and unassuming, as he had come to know it.

 

There was a shuffle behind the main bar as the proprietor—a gruff human woman in her later years with once-fair hair and eyes like chips of ice—shifted her attention from a customer to the girl. “What can I do for ya?” she asked the young girl.

 

Caleb (or rather, Caleb-as-Frumpkin) saw Linnet shift her weight a little, adjusting her stance, preparing for something.

 

“I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t any entertainment tonight, and I would like to offer my skill for a few songs,” Linnet said, her voice taking on a quiet firmness that spoke of years of practice with this exact same speech.

 

“Would you be needing an instrument of any sort, because I’m afraid we haven’t got much in the way of that,” the woman said, and Caleb could only imagine the look she was fixing Linnet with now.

 

“Have you got a violin or fiddle?” Linnet asked, rising on the balls of her feet, and then lowering herself back to the ground. “If not, I can make do.”

 

“Aye, I’ve got a fiddle. Used to be my husband’s, ‘fore he passed away. If you give me a wee moment, I’ll go fetch it for you.”

 

“Of course. Thank you, ma’am.”

 

“We could use with some entertainment ‘round here. Let’s see how you do a few songs, and there might be a negotiation to put you up for the night,” the proprietor said. “Tips we split, aye?”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“Now I’ll go see about that fiddle for ya. You just wait here.”

 

_So she sings_ , Caleb thought, pulling away from Frumpkin and returning to the table, where he found Nott’s attention fixed on him

 

“What’d you hear?” the goblin asked, wiping ale from her lips.

 

“The girl sings,” Caleb told his friend, still watching Linnet from afar. “And plays, it would seem.”

 

“Is that how she does magic then?” Nott took another swig from her flask. “Because she did something earlier, with her voice, and lights appeared, like yours.”

 

“ _Vielleicht_ ,” he said, “Perhaps. I would have to see more to be certain, but that would seem to be the case.”

 

Caleb had heard stories of people who used music to carry and shape their magic, only, he had never had the privilege to meet them—at least, not that he knew of. He remembered reading that their magic was not always as obvious, that it had to be examined closely to be truly determined. Nonetheless, it seemed that the girl had such talents, even if she was more careless with her magic than most would be. Surely the trick of shaping her Dancing Lights into birds was hardly useful, and Caleb could see the strain it put on her—gods knew what else she had learned unusual ways for.

 

“Look! There she goes. Yay Linnet!” Jester cheered, clapping her hands as Linnet followed the proprietor to a small, clearly makeshift stage that didn’t seem to be getting much use until now. The young cleric was leaning on the table, such that she was almost completely out of her seat. “Whoo-hoo!”

 

“Quiet down, Jester, don’t scare her,” Mollymauk said, leaning his seat back against the wall. “I want to see this.”

 

The proprietor had handed Linnet her late husband’s fiddle, which the half-elf girl accepted with a small bow, and tucked against her chin, familiarizing herself with the instrument.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, it seems we’re in for a treat, as this young lass’s offered to play for you, and provide a bit of entertainment to liven up an otherwise miserable night.” This was all said with a wry smile, as if the miserable state of their lives was a point of a joke—though Caleb knew it was often the way of poor folk to make light of their situation, by remarking on how miserable they were. “So treat her nice, alright, and she might take requests for ye.”

 

As the woman left the stage, there was a short moment where everyone in the crowd seemed to be jockeying for Linnet’s attention, shouting out names of songs. The requests ranged from love ballads to bawdy tales, but all fell silent when she raised the bow to the strings.

 

Her movements at first were slow and cautious, as she familiarized herself with the stranger’s instrument, but it was only a matter of time before she picked up the pace. The piece she played was a jig Caleb recognized from harvest festivals as a child. Once she opened her mouth to sing, he was reminded of the story the song told, the story of a young farmhand who thought himself fit to woo the maid of a lord, only to be caught by the lord and arrested on the charge of assault against the maid. If Caleb recalled correctly, it did not end well for the lad.

 

Nonetheless, the girl’s song had a majority of the tavern’s patrons singing along (as it was well known enough that people at least knew the refrain) while others clapped in time. Caleb even caught sight of Beau enjoying herself, and, given the monk’s attitude towards Linnet, he saw this as an improvement of sorts. Jester of course, loved it, and insisted on dancing around with Nott until the two of them became too dizzy to stand properly.

 

The first song ended, and another began, a piece of similar tempo, though nowhere near as rowdy as the first, and so the tavern returned to its normal buzz, Linnet continuing to play under the sound of conversation. There were a few—the Mighty Nein included—who continued to watch her as she played through a whole assortment of joyous songs.

 

And then there came what seemed to be a lull, as she ceased her fancy finger work to draw the bow across the strings once, producing a single, haunting note. A quick change of notes, and she began to sing.

 

_“There were two sisters who lived by the sea_

_Oh, the wind and rain._

_The younger one loved a man in the trees,_

_Oh the dreadful wind and rain.”_

 

Her voice was as clear as the notes she coaxed forth from the old fiddle, no longer bright and joyous, as a night at the tavern should be, but clear and low, as if she were singing into a cave. Once more, silence had fallen over the tavern’s main room—even Jester seemed to fall silent, captivated.

 

It was a dreadful tale that unfolded from her lips, but, like the others, Caleb couldn’t help but be somewhat captivated by the care with which she told the story.

 

A grim tale indeed, telling of two sisters in love with the same man. The younger courted him first, but he spurned her affection, driving the sister to drink, and to cry out his name for the trees and wind to hear, until she drowned her sister in the river for spite. The sister’s corpse floated down the river, and was mistaken by a miller for a golden swan, and so the miller pulled her from the river and left her corpse on the bank to dry. A fiddler happened upon the body and made a small fiddle of the drowned sister’s breastbone, stringing it with what remained of her hair.

 

_“But the only tune that the fiddle would play was_

_Oh, the wind and the rain._

_The only tune that the fiddle would play was_

_Oh, the dreadful wind and rain.”_

 

There was a moment of silence, and Caleb glanced as his friends, wondering what their reaction to the haunting tale would be. Molly, as it seemed to be the case with the morbid, seemed intrigued, as well as slightly impressed, while both Beau and Jester’s mouths hung open in little “o’s” of surprise. The silence continued for another minute before Jester recovered herself and started clapping, and the rest of the patrons followed suit, tossing coppers (as well as a decent amount of silvers) at the girl’s feet.

 

The girl bowed, and when she came up, Caleb saw the appreciative smile on her lips, as if to thank her audience. Another bow, and she bent to collect the coin that’d been tossed at her, leaving as soon as it was done to return the fiddle to the proprietor.

 

“I must say, she’s got quite an impressive voice,” Molly said, rocking forward and resting his elbows on the table.

 

“It was very pretty,” Jester told Linnet when the girl returned to her seat with a handful of silver—the split of her tip, most likely. The blue tiefling have Linnet a hug, squeezing her perhaps a bit too tight, though the girl didn’t seem to mind, and returned the cleric’s embrace. “It was so pretty and so sad and so amazing!”

 

“Thank you,” Linnet said, color rising in her cheeks. She pulled away from the embrace and began counting her earnings, separating three silvers from the rest and sliding them towards Jester, pocketing the rest. “Here. For the room…and the milk.”

 

“No no no no,” Jester said, pushing the silver pieces back towards her. “You earned it! You can buy me pastries or something later, then we’ll be even.”

 

Linnet looked like she was about to protest, but she accepted the three silver without a fuss. “If you say so,” she said, her gaze turning to Nott. “Does that answer your question?”

 

Nott nodded. “Is that all?”

 

“Show us another trick!” Jester clapped her hands together. “Can you do the birds again? Caleb, can _you_ do birds like Linnet?”

 

Caleb shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he said, and he watched Jester’s expression fall. Calling Frumpkin back to him, Caleb took another glance around the room, to make sure that they weren’t attracting any unwanted attention. Satisfied that their unusual crew hadn’t drawn the attention of the other patrons, the wizard stood.

 

“Heading up already?” Molly asked, brows raised. The tiefling inclined his head to the side, and Caleb knew he was trying to determine what had happened, to send the wizard up to bed. “The night’s young. Come on Caleb—Linnet was going to tell us a story.”

 

“We’ve had a long few days, and I am tired,” the wizard said, not caring if he came off as blunt—he was indeed, tired, but more importantly, he needed time to himself after the events of the day, time to think, and, if need be, plan.

 

_Is everything okay?_ Nott asked, then, _You can reply to this message!_

 

He managed a small smile. _Ja. Just tired, that’s all_ , he replied, heading for his room with only a “See you in the morning,” for the group.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My flatmate wanted me to name this chapter "Chapter Nein," after our intrepid group, but, alas, its title had already been determined. 
> 
> The songs used in this chapter are Courtin' In the Kitchen (the jig Linnet plays), while the final song is "The Wind and Rain," which is an old folksong. For the purposes of this fic, the arrangement I used was Dave Malloy's arrangement for his album Ghost Quartet, which I highly recommend listening to if you have the chance.
> 
> I know earlier it was a bit unclear what Linnet's class was, and I hope this chapter made it a bit more clear. A note on the Dancing Lights birds- shaping your lights as birds is not something that I think is actually possible in D&D, but it's more of a flavor thing for Linnet, and it's not something she can do easily, clearly. 
> 
> Anywho, thanks for you continued support, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think.


	10. Breakfast

The night, unlike the one preceding, passed without incident.

As previously agreed upon, Linnet shared a room with Beau and Jester, and while the other two took to the bed, Linnet was happy to sleep on the ground. After years with her troupe, she was no stranger to hard ground, and actually knew how to sleep quite well on it.

She was the first to rise, and so, once she’d positioned Puck’s rapier and tied the sash around her waist, she headed down to the common area of the tavern.

At this hour, the common area was, for the most part, empty, so it wasn’t difficult to find the familiar faces of Caleb and Nott, as well as Fjord. She made her way towards the table, hesitating before she sat down.

“Morning,” she said, glancing around the table.

“Mornin’ to you as well,” Fjord said with a brisk nod. “You might want to get yourself a bite to eat. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

She returned the nod. “Alright,” said she, glancing at Caleb, who was studying a book with writing in a script she didn’t understand, and Nott, who was sorting a pile of…buttons? “Does anyone want anything?”

Nott’s head shot up. “Bacon,” she said, an eager smile on her lips. “Why don’t I come with you, make sure you get the right stuff—Oh! And we can get some pastries for Jester. Caleb, do you want anything?”

“Just bacon,” the scruffy human said, not even looking up from his book. “Thank you Nott.”

“Just bacon, right,” Nott said, gathering up her buttons and putting them into one of the pockets of her cloak. She stood up, and glanced at Linnet. “Let’s go.”

Linnet took this as her cue to lead the way. She wondered if the goblin was still thinking about yesterday morning, and she had half the mind to ask her. _Save it for later_ , she told herself, catching the eye of the proprietor as she approached the bar.

“If it isn’t the lark from last night,” the older woman said, grinning, though Linnet could see the exhaustion of repeat early mornings in the lines by her eyes and the shadows under them. “What can I do ya for, dear?”

“Can me and my friends have some bacon please?” Linnet asked, already fishing through her small purse for a couple silver coins.

“Can do,” the proprietor said. “Anything else?" 

“Pastries,” Nott reminded her, tugging on her sash to get her attention. “Don’t forget the pastries.”

“Mhm…I’m afraid we don’t have any pastries,” the proprietor said, shaking her head. “There’s not much call for them out here, see. I can see about rolls, to go with your bacon, if you’d like.”

“That’d be lovely,” Linnet said, offering the woman a smile. The prospect of rolls with bacon was a wonderful one, as such things were treats when she traveled with her troupe. “How much’ll that be?”

“For your lot? Let’s call it three silver.”

Linnet handed three silver over to the woman, making a note to try and find a way to make more money before they reached Zadash. “Thank you.”

“I ought to be thanking you, for your performance last night. A few of my regulars want to know if you’ll be staying in town for any amount of time.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she told the woman, “though if I ever pass through again, I’ll be sure to drop by so.”

The older woman seemed disappointed, but she smiled nonetheless. “Splendid.” She paused, glancing towards the table where the early risers of the Nein had assembled. “I’ll have your breakfast out soon.”

Linnet nodded and turned to go, making sure that Nott was close by. She was so intent on making sure she didn’t loose track of the goblin (difficult when the common space was not as crowded, but she knew better than to let her guard down that way), that she didn’t notice the man who barred her path until she almost ran into him. “Sorry,” she said, lowering her gaze.

He was taller than she—not a difficult feat, by any means—with broad shoulders and fair hair, and he stood blocking her path. “You’re a bold lass, bringing a goblin into this inn.”

_Nott, stay behind me_ , she said, flicking her finger in the direction of the goblin. Once she was sure her message had gotten through to Nott, she met the man’s gaze. “She’s no goblin,” she said, forcing as much confidence into her voice as she could. While her ability to lie was limited, she knew how to turn a mule into a horse. 

_Message received_ , came the goblin’s reply, and Linnet felt the girl press close to her.

“Then why the hood and mask?” The man laughed. “If you think she’s no goblin, girl, you’re being taken in. I’ve seen my fair share of goblins in my time—I know how they like to hide.”

Linnet took a breath, steadying herself. “She’s my cousin,” she said, praying to the Moonweaver that she could convince the man that Nott was not a goblin. She knew folks didn’t take kindly to goblins—she herself had grown up hearing stories that emphasized their ravenous, barbaric nature, and so naturally meeting Nott had come as a surprise to her—but that didn’t give them the right to pick on Nott (or her, for that matter). “Please sir, she’s very ill, and the cloak and mask are for her protection so much as yours and mine.”

_Please work, please work_ , she prayed, a spell balancing on the tip of her tongue, just in case. She could feel Nott hiding behind her, and for a moment, she considered trying pressing past the man. 

_If you keep him occupied, I’ll make a run for it_ , Nott said. _You can reply to this message._

_It’s worth a try_. Linnet could feel the eyes of the patrons on her and Nott, though she couldn’t see to tell if Caleb and Fjord were watching too, as the man stood in the way.

“Surely you’d be seeing a cleric then, if your sister-”

“Cousin.”

As Linnet corrected the man, she felt Nott rush past, and her heart lept at the joy of their plan’s success, only to fall when she saw the man catch Nott by the back of her cloak, hoisting the goblin into the air. 

Shit. 

Before the man could say anything else, Linnet let loose the spell she’d been holding, snarling a curse in Infernal at the man. The magic flew from her lips and she watched him reel back, dropping Nott, so that his hands were free to clutch his head.

Once free, Nott scrambled away, darting for the table, while Linnet held the man’s gaze for a moment longer. 

She was by no means intimidating, but she hoped she at least made a lasting impression before she went to join the others at the table, sitting down as if nothing had happened.

“Is everything alright?” Fjord asked, brows furrowed in concern. “He wasn’t giving you any trouble, was he?” 

“He won’t anymore,” Linnet told the half-orc, managing a small smile. She couldn’t help but be the slightest bit proud, especially since Vicious Mockery was a spell she had always struggled to get a firm grip on. She was glad it had gone off this time. She glanced at Nott. “You doing okay?”

The goblin nodded. “I could’ve taken him,” she said, reaching into her cloak to show Linnet a small hand crossbow.

“Perhaps, but you would have caused a scene, and we do not want that,” Caleb said, covering the hand crossbow with his hand and glancing around nervously. Satisfied that no one had seen Nott draw the weapon, his gaze returned to the table. “Thank you, Linnet.”

“Of course,” she said, watching the man recover from her attack and slink off towards his compatriots. _And stay away_ , she thought, but didn’t send that his way. She didn’t need to start a fight, not this early in the morning. “You guys…You guys are looking out for me, and it’s only fair I return the favor so.”

“Not many take kindly to goblins,” Fjord said, “and I imagine, traveling the way you and your folks did, they’re more of a threat than anything else.” 

“So are highwaymen and townsfolk.” Linnet shrugged. “But my troupe, we…we aren’t always defenseless.”

“What do you mean by that?” Nott asked. “Do you have bodyguards?”

“We…We sometimes have folk who travel with us, sometimes wizards, but mostly sellswords and the like.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line, thinking. “And we can defend ourselves, if we need to.” 

“Were you overpowered, then? When you were separated from them, I mean. Were there too many? Or did they have magic you couldn’t fight against?” 

“Nott, I think that’s enough questions for one morning,” Caleb said, though Linnet had a feeling he had his own questions for her.

“I told you…I…I don’t remember,” she said, wishing she had more to say, but she didn’t know what there was to say. What she could immediately recall wasn’t important. “I’m sorry. I can’t…Can we talk about something else, please?”

As if some god had answered her prayer, the proprietor arrived with a plate of bacon and warm rolls, which she set down in the middle of the table. After telling them to get her if they needed anything more, returned to making sure everyone else in the common space was taken care of.

Linnet tore a roll in half and placed two slices of bacon in between the two halves, mouth watering as she did so. She tried to remember when she had last had a breakfast like this—it was definitely before she went to learn from the troupe, when she and her brother were young. It was a pleasant reminder of her younger years, something she would admit to missing, even if it was just the slightest bit.

She watched as Nott devoured her strips of bacon, stealing a slice from in front of Caleb when she thought the wizard wasn’t looking.

As the bacon was quickly eaten, it was only a matter of time before Mollymauk, Beau, and Jester joined them at the table after what Linnet could only assume was a good lie-in. Jester sat down and almost immediately started telling everyone about a dream she had, while Beau rolled her eyes, which made Linnet think she’d heard the story already.

 “And then Fjord rode in on a white horse, like that one we got back in Alfield, and Yasha was there too, and she killed the dragon!”

“Who’s Yasha?” Linnet asked, brow furrowed.

She noticed Beau blush the slightest bit at the mention of this Yasha. “She’s a friend of ours,” she said, suddenly very interested in the grain of the table. “I don’t think you’ll meet her, since she tends to come and go as she pleases.”

Jester paused her retelling of the dream to grin. “I’m sure you’d love her though, she’s very nice, and strong, and Beau has a crush on her.”

Beau’s nose wrinkled. “Do not!” she said, jumping to her feet and making a lunge for Jester, though Linnet could see it was all in good fun. “I admire her strength, that’s all. She’s very strong, and I admire that in a person.”

“Sure you do.” Jester’s grin widened, and she wiggled her eyebrows. “Remember how well she did in the Victory Pit at the Harvest Close, when Caleb turned her into a giant?”

“Jester, I think Beau asked you to leave it alone.” Fjord shook his head. “We should get going soon, hit the road.”


	11. A Big Stick

_Great. Just great_.

Beau tightened her grip on her staff, holding it at the ready. Beside her, Molly unsheathed his scimitars, while Fjord called forth his falchion, and Jester held her hand axe at the ready. Nott, she knew would be somewhere on the periphery, ready to pick off enemies with crossbow bolts, while Caleb would only go as close as he dared, though Beau knew he could be counted on to defend his friends.

Linnet, on the other hand…

The girl had frozen in her tracks the second danger presented itself. She didn’t reach for the rapier at her waist, nor did she hold herself like Beau sometimes saw Caleb do, prepared to cast a spell as soon as an opportunity presented itself—she simply froze. Her thoughts were written across her face—her dark eyes were wide and frightened, her stance wrong (that girl would fall over if a stiff wind blew in her direction, never mind a blow from the gnoll pack lord’s glaive)—and it didn’t help Beau feel any better about the situation they found themselves in.

The situation consisted of six gnolls, as well as two noticeably larger gnolls armed with wicked glaives. It was not unlike their earlier encounter with the gnolls, back in Alfield, except this time, there didn’t seem anything distinctly off about the gnolls. They were just gnolls.

At first, the larger gnolls hung back, but once Fjord, Molly, and Jester (with help from Nott) had dispatched some of the underlings, things started to get difficult.

Beau didn’t speak Gnoll, but she was pretty sure the series of yips and snaps from the large gnolls were instructions to close in on the group.

“Bad dog,” she grunted, swatting at one with her staff when it snapped at her, eliciting a whine from the creature. She swung her staff around another time, determined to keep distance between herself and its slobbering jaws.

_Thwack!_

The gnoll let out a low whine, and took a step back, somewhat deterred by her attack.

A high pitched keen filled the air for a moment, then a handful of the gnolls, as well as one of the larger, armed ones, ducked their heads, as if to avoid the sound. What had they heard that called for that sort of reaction?

There was no time to question it, as another gnoll had taken the place of the one from earlier. Before Beau could react to strike it with her staff, a familiar bolt of eldritch energy lashed out at the creature, followed by another.

“Thanks,” Beau breathed, finishing the job with a crack on the gnoll’s head. She took a moment to steady herself and settle back into position, and in that moment, she glanced about her.

Molly and Jester were finishing off the small gnolls, while Caleb was keeping a gnoll at bay with small bolts of fire. He’d separated himself from the group, Beau knew, because of his need to fight form a distance, and sometimes it worked out, because it meant he went down much less often, but it was beginning to make her worry.

She didn’t focus so much on Linnet, who held her rapier in one hand, while the other was presented palm-first. She kept a distance from the others, and Beau couldn’t help but wonder if she planned on making a run for it. Doubtful, since, even in the brief second she spared for the girl, she saw her awkward stance, one that clearly declared her fear and instability. A low rumble came, and Beau watched as the air rippled outward from the girl’s palm, tossing one of the pack leader’s backwards.

Not bad, Beau thought, wondering where the other pack leader had gone. She could’ve sworn he was right there a moment ago…

“Beau, look out!” Fjord said, and a bolt of his Eldritch Blast whistled by her head.

Beau spun around, spinning just in time to catch the blade of the pack lord’s glaive with her staff. She could feel the staff trying to bow as she pushed back; it was strong, and perhaps, if she were stronger, she would be able to push back, but, for all her training, she wasn’t.

_I might not be strong_ , she thought, gritting her teeth, _but I’m pretty fucking fast_. With that thought, she jumped back and swung her staff to catch the pack lord in the side. She couldn’t help but grin when he whimpered and doubled over, though she knew the victory would be short lived.

There were another two bolts of energy that belonged to Fjord—one missed, but the other found its mark, singeing the creature’s fur.

“Hey stink-face!” Beau heard Jester call, and she saw a flash of bright blue dart towards the gnoll Caleb had been defending himself against.

Linnet slashed at the other park lord, who seemed unbothered by the girl’s attacks, and lunged at her, ready to strike with his claws. She let out a cry as he caught her across her shoulder, and Beau watched her falter.

_Toughen up, kid,_ she thought, going to strike her and Fjord’s pack lord, going for his head this time, only to miss. Her heart skipped an unfortunate beat as she saw the pack lord swing his glaive at her, only for it to miss at the last second, catching on the fabric of her cloak instead of cleaving through her like the gnoll had no doubt intended.

_He can’t see,_ Beau heard Linnet’s voice say in the back of her head. _It won’t last for long, but it’s something._

_Thanks_ , Beau replied, meeting Linnet’s eyes for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the fight.

She heard Jester cheering, and took that to mean the last of the underling gnolls had been dealt with.

_Now it’s just you two, and one of you can’t see. Let’s see how long this takes._

She grit her teeth and struck at the pack lord, pulling back enough for Fjord to attack with his falchion. She could barely smell the scent of saltwater that seemed to emanate from the strange blade above the smell of blood and sweat and the vague scent of mold that perhaps came from the gnolls, and while that often struck her as strange, there wasn’t really time to question it.

She let herself get lost in the steady rhythm of strike-dodge-strike-parry, doing her best to keep from faltering when the pack lord slashed at her with the glaive, determined to keep from breaking the rhythm she’d established. Even as a kid, she’d been comfortable in a fight, level-headed (though she was, without question, still as hot-headed when it came to starting fights as she’d been in her younger years) and strangely at peace. It helped, of course, that the gnoll had been blinded, and relied on listening in order to determine Beau and Fjord’s position, something that wasn’t helped by the din of the fight around them.

Fjord was the one to take down the first pack lord, cleaving through the creature’s shoulder with his falchion, his brow furrowed as he put all his strength into the blow, unrelenting until the gnoll fell to his knees, eventually toppling over.

The other pack lord still stood, held at bay by Linnet and Molly, who attacked from different sides of the creature. Beau watched the girl’s form, and even she could see that it was not that effective, which might explain why it was taking her such a long time to deal with the beast, and maybe why it had been able to get close to her.

Beau watched as Linnet opened her mouth and sang an eerie melody, her eyes locked with the gnoll as she did. The gnoll paused for a moment, then stumbled back, away from Linnet, though it was in that moment that Molly caught it with both his scimitars, bringing the creature to his knees.

“Not bad,” she heard Molly tell the half-elf girl once he checked to make sure the creature was dead. “You did a good job there.”

Linnet was breathing heavily—Beau was, by this point, sure the girl had never seen a fight like this before—and Beau was certain the girl could be knocked over with a feather now. “Thanks,” she breathed, and she glanced over at Beau. “Did it help? The…When…When I blinded him?”

“Uh, yeah,” Beau said, shrugging. It’d helped a whole lot, but she wasn’t about to admit that she had needed help in the first place. She and Fjord’d had it all under control. “Nice job.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fjord make a face, the face he made when she said something wrong.

She shot him an accusatory glare. “What?” she hissed, rolling her eyes.

“Nothing,” Fjord said, though she knew it was likely another lecture on tone, though she saw no problem with it. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she told him, glancing over at Caleb, who was dusting off his coat and helping Nott collect her crossbow bolts. “You two okay?”

There was only a nod from Caleb, followed by Nott, who nodded. Neither one looked too injured, which was good. The only ones Beau could see with injuries were Molly, Jester, and Linnet, but nothing that looked life-threatening.

She watched Linnet, who stood apart from the Nein as they regrouped, her chest visibly rising and falling as she caught her breath. It became more apparent that this was the girl’s first fight, and, perhaps if she were spending more time with the Nein, if they weren’t going to part ways when Linnet found her people in Zadash, Beau might offer to give the girl a few pointers, show her a few tricks.

“Let’s get going,” Fjord said, once they’d had a moment to catch their breath. “If there’s more gnolls, I’d rather not run into them.”

“How far is the next town?” Linnet asked, sheathing her rapier. “There isn’t much cover for sleeping so.”

“No, there isn’t, but we’ll make do if need be,” Fjord said. He glanced at Caleb. “Do you remember what they said back at the last tavern?”

The wizard gave a start, but quickly recovered. “A day if the roads are good,” he said, pulling his coat more tightly around him.

“I don’t know about you, but I would like to sleep in a real bed tonight,” Molly said, sheathing his swords and brushing dust off his coat. He bent down to search the corpse of the pack leader he and Linnet had dealt with, and found what looked like a belt of trophies taken off of travelers.

There didn’t seem to be anything of particular value on the belt, though Beau did see a pouch that was maybe a coin purse. Molly saw it too, and separated it from the belt in order to further inspect it.

“Here,” he said, handing the pouch to Linnet. “It’s not much, but I think you did well enough you deserve something for it.”

“Molly.”

“What?” The tiefling turned to look at Fjord and Beau, and shrugged. “We’ve got plenty money of our own, and all she’s got is what she made last night, which isn’t much to begin with. And she didn’t do too bad during the fight…Sure, there’s things that need a little help, but not bad for a first time.”

“Fair enough,” Fjord said, once more surveying the remains of their attackers. “Should we get going? Seems everyone wants a bed to sleep in tonight, so we might as well.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!   
> My flatmate helped me title this chapter (mostly because we were thinking of stick puns that were appropriate for a chapter from the POV of Beau).   
> Please let me know what you think- I usually struggle with fight scenes, and so feedback here is especially helpful. I'm not adhering too strictly to proper D&D mechanics, and probably won't in the future, except in certain situations in the future.  
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading and giving this fic your support.


	12. Truth or Dare

“Okay, okay, it’s my turn.” Jester rolled over on the bed, so she was now watching Linnet upside down. “Linnet—truth or dare?”

“Can’t we just go to bed already?” Beau asked, leaning against the headboard, her arms and legs crossed in what Linnet could only interpret as _I’m so done with this shit_ , and after the day’s fight, she couldn’t blame her. “We’ve been playing for the last hour, and everyone else’s gone to bed already.”

“Linnet hasn’t been asked all evening!” Jester scrunched up her nose. “Okay, okay, she did go once but that was a dare and that was _easy_.”

Linnet couldn’t help but laugh.

It’d been fun to play a game with the members of the Mighty Nein who weren’t too tired after their arrival to the town, even if it was as silly as “truth or dare.” Not that she minded it, no. She was just used to more…dynamic games being played around the troupe’s fire, even after a long day, things like Spider and Fly, or blind man’s bluff, or Puck’s favorite, which was kiss-chase. There were also the stories to look forward to, as well as the songs, or when those with magic would put on dazzling displays for their friends.

Playing Jester’s game of “truth or dare” was almost similar. Nott had dared Jester to eat one of her pastries without using her hands, a feat which the tiefling girl accomplished with ease, even if she did get sprinkles all over her face in the process. Jester demanded truth from Beau, asking if she liked Yasha, to which the monk did not reply. For her turn, Beau had dared Mollymauk to juggle the bowl of fruit Jester had acquired upon their arrival to the tavern. With a flourish, Mollymauk accepted her challenge, and proceeded to juggle the fruit with the wily grin of a showman. With that same grin, Mollymauk had dared Linnet to walk around the room on her hands while reciting a children’s rhyme.

It was the sort of challenge Linnet would’ve been given if she were playing with her troupe, suited well enough to her that she didn’t balk at the challenge, but enough of a challenge that it could count as a dare.

“Alright,” she’d said, casting aside her sash and the rapier so that she could balance more easily. She took a breath, watching as Mollymauk and Nott cleared space on the floor for her to go through on the dare. Once she had a rhyme picked out in her head, she tipped herself forward into a handstand and took a few steps forward, testing her balance.

“ _The lion and the unicorn  
_ _Were fighting for the crown.  
_ _The lion beat the unicorn  
_ _All around the town_.”

It wasn’t difficult to keep balance in a handstand. She remembered Puck’s lessons well, especially the one about the imaginary cord running through her body, and as long as she kept that cord tight, she would stay up. Speaking while moving about in a handstand, however, proved to be quite difficult.

She could feel all eyes on her, though she knew better than to try and look. She had to keep her concentration throughout the whole rhyme, if she was going to finish it off.

“ _Some gave them white bread,  
_ _And some gave them brown;  
_ _Some gave them plum cake  
_ _And drummed them out of town_.”

The rhyme complete, Linnet tucked herself into a ball and rolled out of the handstand, an act that was received with applause from Jester and Nott. She stood, and bowed, much in the same way Molly had following his juggling act.

It was then her turn to pose a challenge or ask a question, and she chose to ask Nott if she’d ever kissed anyone.

It was innocent enough—the kind of question she might have gotten herself—and everyone seemed on board with it when she asked.

Nott hesitated before shaking her head. “Nope,” she said, and then she added, “I’m going to go check on Caleb. See you in the morning!” and left.

“As much fun as this has been, ladies, I’m afraid I should take my leave as well,” Mollymauk declared with a mock bow before making his exit.

Once it was only Jester, Beau, and Linnet in the room, Jester decided to take charge.

“Okay, okay, it’s my turn,” Jester declared. “Linnet—truth or dare?”

“Can’t we just go to bed already?”

Linnet grinned. “Truth,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the floor and glancing up at the blue tiefling. She didn’t see any harm in it. She was, after all, a storyteller, and she wouldn’t mind sharing a story of her own.

“Have you got any siblings?”

“I…” Okay, she’d been expecting something different, but this…this was okay. “I’ve got a sister…and a brother.”

“Ooh lucky!” Jester beamed. “What’re their names? Are they older or younger? What’re they like?”

“Jester, I think “truth” just means one question,” Beau pointed out. “We’ll be here all night if you keep asking her things. Besides, she might not want to talk about it.”

“It’s fine,” Linnet said, shrugging. “My sister’s name is Miele and my brother…his name’s Fabian.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that.” Beau swung forward, blue eyes fixating on Linnet. “What’s with that, hm?”

“There’s nothing…He’s…I just haven’t…Never mind.” She lifted her chin and smiled, burying the things that threatened to resurface.

She’d dealt with that already. It didn’t need to come up now, and not with these people.

 _Two years, and you’d think I’d move past it_ , she thought, giving her head a shake, trying to clear the thoughts.

“Hey Linnet, you okay?” Jester asked, and Linnet could see the furrow of concern in her brow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to, you know, learn more about you, you know?”

“I know,” Linnet said, managing a small smile. “I just…I just haven’t thought about my brother in a long time.”

That was a lie, of course. The moment Mollymauk had mentioned Zadash, Linnet’s first thought had been of her brother, and he had gone in and out of her thoughts since. She had tried to push them away, but she knew part of her wanted to see him, wanted to know…

“Is he…did he die?”

“Jester!” Beau hissed.

Linnet shook her head. “No, he didn’t,” she said, lips pressed together in a thoughtful line. “He…I just haven’t seen him in a long time, you know?”

“Do you miss him?”

Did she?

“I…”

Did she miss him?

Of course she did—he was her brother. Their entire lives, they hadn’t ever gone far from each other, until…But that was the natural course of things, for people to grow apart, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what Miele had told her, and Linnet knew her sister was wise beyond her years.

Still, that didn’t change the fact of what he did. She wondered if he knew the betrayal he caused her, or if he thought nothing of it. Growing apart was the natural course of things, after all.

“I do,” she said. “We were always so close, and it was…strange, to have that change.”

“That’s got to suck,” Beau said, earning a quick glare from Jester. “What? It sounds like you two were close, and now he’s not here. That’s gotta suck.”

Linnet shrugged. “I guess,” she said, her voice quiet. “I…I miss him.”

“Do you know where he is?” Jester asked, rolling onto her stomach and resting her head on her hands. “Maybe we can help you find him, and then you won’t miss him.”

 _I’d be impressed if you could_ , Linnet wanted to say, but kept from doing so.

Fabian’s business was his own now, and even if she were to seek him out in Zadash, Fabian was the sort who knew how to hide. He always had been good at that, and as children, he’d gotten into all sorts of mischief, which got him and his sister into all kinds of trouble with their mother.

“Thanks, but…but I just want to find my troupe.” Linnet bit her lip, trying to find a way to end this conversation. What had started out as good fun had quickly become a situation she didn’t want to be part of. “It’s getting late.”

“That’s what I said earlier, then Jester decided she wanted to play more truth or dare.” Beau blew out the candle. “G’night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little backstory there..  
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!  
> Please let me know what you thought, and thank you for your continued support.


	13. A Lesson

“Come on, try again.”

They’d stopped for a moment to rest, and Mollymauk had taken advantage of this opportunity to give Linnet a few pointers about using her rapier, so she’d have a better idea of what to do if they got into a fight between here and Zadash.

It wasn’t her fault she fought with a noticeable flourish, and it was completely understandable, really. From what Molly had gathered, her only experience with a rapier was from performing in the show fights that were popular in troupes larger than Fletchling and Moondrop’s traveling show. Those sorts of fights focused more on appearance and theatrics than anything, which was probably where the fault lay in Linnet’s earlier attempts with the rapier.

What she needed, Molly realized as he watched her go through the forms he’d shown her (he couldn’t remember how he knew what to do, but somehow he’d managed to start her off in the right direction), was confidence. She picked up the forms easily, but he could see in her movement that she was second-guessing herself, hesitating where it was clear she was making the right move, and he knew that would only be a problem further down the road.

“I have an idea,” he said, drawing both of his scimitars and beginning to circle her. “Fight me.”

She stopped, brows furrowed, rapier down at her side. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, grinning. He saw Beau and Fjord draw closer to where they’d been practicing. Caleb was watching, but didn’t come any closer. “No magic. Just swords. Come on—you can do it.”

Her grip on the rapier tightened. “But why?”

“The best way to learn is by doing.”

“Alright.”

“First move’s yours.”

“I…” She took a breath to steady herself, and held her rapier level. “I don’t know.”

He could see her assessing the situation, and arriving at the conclusion that this wasn’t a fair fight. The point wasn’t to have a fair fight. If she won, it would be because she was clever and quick on her feet, and if she lost, she’d have a lesson. He wanted her to come away from this a bit more sure of herself, if anything, and if she won, then props to her.

“Come on,” he said, settling into a more ready position. “It’s just like I was showing you earlier. You know what you’re doing, but it’s time to apply that.”

He wasn’t going to let her win—that wasn’t the point of this exercise. If she won, it’d be because she was able to keep a level head and not freeze, not because he was going to just hand it to her.

She took another breath and made a lunge for him, attacking from the highest angle she could manage, only for her blow to be deflected.

“Too slow,” he said, swinging both of his scimitars towards her, forcing her to step back. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

She swung at him, going for his legs before scurrying around to the side.

_Bad step_ , he thought, swinging a scimitar around to catch her in the side—just a light tap, nothing fatal. “Better.”

They fell into a steady rhythm—he could see her going through the forms in her head—and while she was able to keep up, Molly could still see her second guessing herself and focusing more on making the right attack instead of moving quickly. To mix things up, he swung his coat wide, the sudden appearance of fabric startling her, but she dodged well enough, and parried the attack that followed. He swung, and she jumped back, then went to make her own attack. They held each other at bay for a few minutes, but Mollymauk could see her starting to waver, and picked up the pace.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, adjusting her pace to match his, stepping back every time she parried his attack, until she stumbled over herself and ended up falling flat on her back.

Seizing the opportunity, Mollymauk darted forward and pinned her to the ground with a foot, taking care to be gentle (they were only sparring, after all, and there was no need to be too aggressive). He held her there for a count of five, then released her and offered a hand.

“Not bad,” he said, clapping her on the back. “There’s a few things to work on, but it’s a start.”

She nodded, and sheathed her rapier before heading over to where Nott and Jester were sitting on the side of the road and lying on the grass beside them.

Mollymauk let her have her rest—she’d earned it, he figured, just as he’d earned his.

“Hey Molly, do you have a sec?” Beau had appeared at his side, and Molly had a feeling he wouldn’t have a choice, judging from her tone and the way he fixed her with her stubborn blue eyes.

“Of course,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure, unpleasant one?”

Beau made a face. “Very funny,” she said, turning so her back was to the rest of the Nein. So this business was secret, it seemed. “I need you to do something for me.”

“And what is that?” He was now truly perplexed. What did Beau need him to do that she couldn’t do herself? “If this is about Yasha, I’ve told you, it’s up to you.”

“It’s not about Yasha,” Beau said flatly, and Molly knew better than to press.

“Alright then, what’s it about? Whose body are we hiding?”

“Could you stop joking around for five seconds? Gods above.” She let out a frustrated grunt and kicked at Molly’s foot…and missed. Once she’d cooled down a bit, she spoke again. “It’s about Linnet.”

“Oh?”

“She’s…There’s something going on. I don’t know what it is, but last night, Jester asked her about her brother, and she…she sorta froze.” Beau’s brow was furrowed, and she shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it just gave me a weird gut feeling.”

“You want me to ask her about her brother.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s her business, Beau. I’m not going to pry any further than she wants us too.”   
“What if it bites us in the ass? What if her brother’s involved with the Gentleman, or something like that?”

“Then he is, and that’s his and Linnet’s business, not any of ours.”

“All I’m saying is, it might be worth checking out. You know how to talk to people, so you might get her to open up a bit.”

Molly shook his head. “Her secrets are hers, Beau, and we’re not entitled to them anymore than she is to ours.”

She let out a huff. “Whatever,” she said, and went off to join the group.

Molly watched her go, thinking for a moment about what she’d said. While he (of all people) knew the importance of having secrets, he couldn’t help but be curious. There was a slight sadness in the way Linnet carried herself, but it had really come out the other night, when she sang. That kind of sadness didn’t come from losing her troupe, no, it came from something different, something perhaps related to the brother Beau had mentioned.

_Her secrets are her own_ , he reminded himself as he turned to rejoin the group. If she wanted to tell him, she would, though perhaps that required an invitation first, just so she knew she could trust him, if she wanted to.

Even more curious was how Beau seemed convinced that something was up with Linnet, something that would come get the Nein if it decided to come get Linnet. He would never doubt the power of a hunch, but in this instant, it didn’t seem necessary.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued support!


	14. Keeping Watch

They found a copse on the side of the road, and set up camp there, too tired from the day’s journey—as uneventful as it’d been—to continue onwards. There were no tents to pitch, only bedrolls to arrange and a fire to begin, as well as a silver wire to set around the perimeter (this was done by Caleb, who, Linnet noticed, did so with painstaking care, even though it was clear he knew what he was doing), which made the task much more simple than it ever had been with the troupe. Dinner was traveler’s rations (Linnet had made sure to purchase some of her own before they’d left that morning using the money she’d earned singing), and after that, they sat around the fire.

“I’ll take first watch,” Beau said, pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and shouldering her staff.

“And I’ll join you,” Mollymauk said. “Never hurts to have two pairs of eyes, now does it?”

“I’ll take next watch,” Linnet offered, meeting the tiefling’s red eyes. “I don’t mind.”

“You and Caleb can have the second watch then,” Mollymauk declared with a grin, the sort that suggested mischief—Linnet wondered what he knew that she didn’t, but let it lie.

She heard Nott clear her throat, and glanced in the goblin’s direction to find the girl fixing her with a narrow glare. Brushing off Nott’s obvious annoyance, she glanced at Caleb, who seemed to be indifferent to Mollymauk’s decision, then back at the tiefling himself, acknowledging his words with a nod.

“Fjord and I’ll take the last one!” Jester offered, breaking the silence that had settled over the group.

“And I’ll take second watch with Caleb and Linnet!” Nott said, looking around, as if daring anyone to challenge her.

Mollymauk furrowed his brow a moment, and then clapped his hands together, causing Linnet to jump, startled by the sound. “Well, now that we’ve got that sorted out, why don’t you all get some sleep,” he said, taking up a post at the base of one of the trees nearby.

Linnet didn’t need to be told twice. While the day’s travel was nothing new to her, Mollymauk’s lessons earlier had worn her out, and she could feel the soreness begin to settle in her shoulders as she lay down to sleep, pulling the wool blanket she’d borrowed from Jester up over her shoulders and using the crook of her elbow for a pillow.

The opal pendant Puck had given her was cool against the skin of her neck, and she couldn’t help but think of her mentor.

She wondered if they were looking for her too, though she knew better than to think they’d delay the troupe’s travel to look for one straggler. It was up to her to find them, even if she had no idea how to go about that.

Puck had said she’d know where to find them, but the more time she spent apart from them, she lost confidence in her ability to find them. She knew there were spells to find people, but they were spells she didn’t have access to, or spells well beyond her ability.

_No use worrying_ , she thought, tucking her other arm behind her head and staring at the stars. It would be her turn to take watch soon, and she knew she was better off getting sleep while she could.

Sleep came easily—she was tired enough, and very rarely was it difficult for her to sleep—and with it, came dreams.

She dreamt she was in the wood near her village, where she and Fabian had played as children, despite their mother’s warnings about the dangers of the fey creatures that were sometimes sighted in the wood. Fabian and Linnet had of course ignored these warnings, and would often venture deep into the wood, playing hide-and-seek by themselves. Sometimes Miele would join them, if she could be found in the first place.

In her dream, Linnet was chasing her brother through the wood, careful not to step on any new growth like Miele had always taught her was respectful. She could see him ahead of her, the ashen curls that they shared fitting in with their autumnal surroundings, and, despite the fallen leaves that already littered the forest floor, his steps made no sound.

She called out something—his name perhaps—expecting him to stop, like she knew he would, but he didn’t, and she found herself calling out again.

_You’re not playing fair_ , she thought, though she knew it was unusual for Fabian to play fair. Except with her. He was always fair to her, and when they played games like this, he always gave her a sporting chance. Of course he would always be better at hiding than she, but Miele had taught her how to spot even the most well hidden things, so it was always a fair competition between the two.

Her brother stopped, long enough for Linnet to catch up, then she heard a voice calling to her, a voice that was neither hers nor Fabian’s.

“Hey,” Mollymauk said, shaking her gently. “Come on, up and at ‘em. Time for you to take watch.”

Linnet blinked away the sleepiness in her eyes. There would be time for dreams later, but Molly was right, and now it was her turn to take watch. “Right,” she said, sitting up and retrieving Puck’s rapier from beside her. “Thanks.”

The tiefling just gave her a nod and made his way to his bedroll, stepping softly so not to wake the others.

As Mollymauk left, Linnet made her way to the silvery perimeter of the camp, where Caleb and Nott had already taken up their posts. Caleb’s cat, she realized, was present as well, asleep around the human’s neck, draped like a second scarf under the collar of his coat.

She was no stranger to keeping watch—like most things, it was a shared task in her troupe—though what struck her as unusual was the silence between herself and the other two. She was used to at least some sort of conversation, even if it was a few pleasantries about the weather, or business, or whatever town they were headed to, or at least something to pass the time. Instead, Caleb and Nott seemed to be content to keep to themselves.

“So where are you from?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet enough that it wouldn’t wake the others. She couldn’t bear the silence, and she knew the watch would only drag on if there was no conversation to pass the time. She didn’t really care who answered; she just needed to fill the silence with _something,_ even if it was an awkward attempt at small talk.

She knew there was little point in getting to know the Mighty Nein, when she would be parting ways with them as soon as they met up with her troupe, but she couldn’t help but be curious. Everyone had their stories, and, as a storyteller, it felt like her job to learn those stories, which sometimes meant having to ask.

After a few seconds of silence, she saw Caleb swallow. “Near Rexxentrum,” he said, glancing in her direction. “And…and what about you? Where are you from?”

“A little ways south of Icehaven,” she said, “though I haven’t been back in years.”

“Well we have that in common then.” There was a sort of sadness in the way he said that. In the blink of an eye, though, that sadness vanished. “How long is, um, “years” for you?”

“Ten years. I left when I was fifteen, to study magic.”

“Where did you study?” There was worry in his voice, and, despite the low light, Linnet could pick up the same worry in the man’s eyes. The glint of something in his hand caught her attention, and she saw him turning over a small gem of some sort, over and over in his hand.

“With my troupe,” she answered, realizing that perhaps her answer might require a bit of an explanation. “I used to sing and play for village dances and the like, and they were passing through one day, around Harvest Close. My mentor—well, they weren’t my mentor then, of course—they said they recognized the kind of magic I had, and offered to teach me.”

“You didn’t go to a school of any sort?”

At this, she couldn’t help but laugh. “No,” she said, shrugging. “We couldn’t afford it, and even if we could, my magic isn’t the kind they teach at places like the Solstryce Academy, at least from what I know.”

“And what do you know about the Academy?” He’d stopped turning the gem over in his hand, though he still held it tight, running a thumb over the many facets. His brow was furrowed, and his lips were pressed into a tight line.   
  
She knew a few things about the Academy—stories, mostly, but practical things as well. “Not much more than anyone else. I know it’s full of magical prodigies whose families have money, and I also know that most of the graduates go into the service of the Empire,” she said, shrugging. “I know it’s mostly wizards who go to study there, and some sorcerers, so not the place for me so.”

A pause. “The Academy wasn’t the place for me either,” he said, bowing his head. Something tugged in the core of Linnet’s being, the sort of feeling that told her there was more beneath the surface of his words, and she almost considered probing deeper until she caught the flash of Nott’s eyes in the darkness beside Caleb, as if the goblin was warning her not to press further. A small, sad smile appeared across his lips, and then disappeared. “We’ve got that in common as well, it would seem.”

“Indeed,” she said, not sure what there was for her to say. She felt as if she’d come close to a story best left untouched (and she knew such stories existed), and wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“Your teacher,” Caleb said after a lengthy pause. “Were they a good person? Were they kind to you?”

“Yes,” she said, brow furrowed. What kind of questions were those? “Of course. Of course they were kind—why wouldn’t they be? They showed me how to use magic, and how to use it to help people.”

He shrugged. “Not all teachers are kind,” was all he said, fidgeting with the gemstone. He pressed his lips together, thinking. “It’s good yours was, and good they taught you to use magic to help, rather than to harm.”

Linnet nodded, not sure what she was to say in response. 'To amuse and confuse, but never to harm' had always been Puck’s rule, and it became hers as well. “They’re a good teacher,” she said, running her thumb across the surface of her opal pendant—a good luck charm, Puck had told her when they first gave it to her—and letting out a quiet sigh. “I’ve learnt a lot from them so.”

She still had so much to learn, and she knew that. There were things Puck hadn’t taught her yet, but she knew about them from stories. There were so many spells she could learn—or so she’d been told when she first began. There spells to create illusions that felt real to the touch, spells that would allow her access to legends lost to even the longest living memories, and change her shape the way she’d seen her sister do. Certainly with a few more years of study under Puck, and she would be able to learn some of these spells.

“You mentioned they taught you to shape your lights,” Caleb said, and Nott nodded. “Do you do anything else?”

“I know other spells, yes.” She couldn’t help but laugh at her answer, and she composed herself. “Nothing…nothing like the lights. I’m still learning, though.”

“Maybe you can be her teacher, Caleb,” Nott suggested, speaking up for the first time during the whole conversation. “You can trade tips or something like that.”

Caleb laughed—it was a brief, almost sad sound, really—and shook his head. “I’m hardly qualified to teach,” he said, “and besides, I don’t think Linnet will be with us much longer. It’s only a day and a half until we reach Zadash, by which point we will find her people and return her to them.”

“You taught me,” the goblin pointed out, sitting with her legs crossed in front of her. “Maybe you could learn from each other—you know, like compare notes or something.”

“Perhaps my friend, perhaps.” He reached up to scratch between the ears of his cat, who opened his eyes slightly and began to purr. “One thing at a time, I think.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for your continued support!


	15. A Good Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief warning for this chapter: This chapter contains a combat and some description of injury/mentions of blood- canon-typical violence, if you will- but nothing graphic.

“Hey bird-brain!” Caleb heard Linnet cry out, drawing the attention of one of the large, sharp-beaked birds that they had encountered and, though it would continue to perplex him as to how exactly, managed to provoke into a fight.

The large bird turned his head towards the girl, and let out a shrill cry before going to strike at her with his beak. It hit, and Caleb saw Linnet falter—she was still new to this, still easily startled and still easily frightened—before she squared back up and struck at the axe-beaked bird with her rapier in reply. The bird let out a shrill keening sound, perhaps calling to its fellows, before slinking away, its feathers matted with blood.

“Caleb watch out!”

Jester’s warning came too late, as one of the birds managed to slash at him, its beak drawing blood before Caleb could think to launch a fire bolt to send it into retreat. The wound wasn’t too bad—it hurt, there was no mistake, but Caleb had seen worse—and so Caleb kept fighting.

The Mighty Nein, despite their strong desire to mind their own business, had found themselves at the center of the large birds’ ire. Caleb was pretty sure it had to do with the injured chick Jester had found in the brush and wanted to help, though at this point, the birds seemed to be fighting for the sake of fighting at this point, the chick forgotten. There had been eleven of them, but they were not overly difficult to deal with, at least once everyone go their bearings.

Molly and Fjord were dealing with the creatures easily enough, slashing at them with their respective blades, while Nott…where was Nott? Wherever she was, Caleb was certain she was doing what she could, though he couldn’t help but worry. Jester had summoned her spiritual weapon, and Caleb watched as she and Beau went at each of the birds together, doing their best to play off the creatures’ low intelligence. Linnet seemed more confident than she had been with the gnolls, only faltering when she was hit, which didn’t seem to be that often. She was quick, almost like Beau or Nott, though her movements were more notably flighty—like a bird—rather than the fluidity Caleb observed in Beau.

The bird that had come at Caleb earlier had returned, beady eyes blazing with no doubt fury and vengeance (though it was up for debate, whether these creatures were aware of the concept of vengeance) as the bird reared back to strike at the wizard with his wicked beak.

Caleb tried to duck away, or fire off a bolt of magic to protect himself, but the bird was too quick, and Caleb felt its beak tear through the sleeve of his coat, breaking the flesh beneath.

His arm seared with pain, and Caleb could feel blood from the wound soaking into his coat. The pain made his hand shake, but he did his best to send a bolt of fire at the bird, and by some miracle, the bolt struck home.

For a moment, he caught Linnet’s eye as she was fighting against the birds that had clustered around her, and he couldn’t quite make out her expression as she thrust her hand forward, and the low rumble of thunder could be heard (though there was not a cloud in the sky). The birds seemed to teeter backwards for a moment before they righted themselves and they both took a swing at her. One missed, while the other struck the girl, who staggered backwards, but regained her footing sure enough.

The fight was drawing to a close, Caleb could feel it. Three of the axe-beaks remained, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before the more sturdy members of the Nein had dealt with them. The one currently focused on Caleb attacked again, striking for his face and managing to hit him across the cheek.

“Caleb!” he heard Nott cry out as he staggered backwards, cheek pulsing where he’d been struck. He searched for the little blur of black and green that he knew would be Nott, and he found her, taking aim at the bird that had him cornered.

Above the sound of battle, Caleb heard another sound, which he recognized as Linnet’s voice. She was singing, the melody something faraway and familiar—a lullaby that he recognized from his childhood, a collection of whimsical images, like dancing bears and birds with painted wings, and the soft snow of early winter. No one else seemed to be able to hear the music, their attention on the large birds, not the half-elf girl and her singing, and Caleb couldn’t help but wonder if it was some sort of enchantment she had learned during her travels.

No stranger to the feel of magic, Caleb was well aware of the enchantment that Linnet had woven into her song as it settled over him. Still, it was an unfamiliar sensation, nowhere near as forceful as Trent’s magic (or the magics of Astrid and Eardwulf) had been, but not quite the burst of energy that always accompanied Jester’s Cure Wounds. This was soft and gentle, almost like a mantle of downy feathers settling across his shoulders, and the pain in his arm dulled considerably. The pain didn’t go away, but became such that Caleb knew he could hold his hand steady enough to cast a spell, and deal with the last of the axe-beaks.

It wasn’t long before the fight was over, and the Mighty Nein was pulling themselves together. They hadn’t suffered much in the fight—Caleb and Linnet seemed to get the worst of it—and so it only took a short rest before they were back on the road.

As they travelled towards Zadash (they would see it any minute now, Caleb was sure of that much), he found himself falling into step beside Linnet, who had drifted to the back of the group.

They walked in silence, though Caleb couldn’t help but notice the small furrow in her brow as they drew nearer to Zadash, and something tugged at him. He couldn’t name what tipped him off, exactly, maybe it was in the set of her brow, or the way she seemed to slow her step, but whatever the case, there was something on her mind. He wouldn’t press her here for it, not after they’d all had a fight, and not in front of the entire party. She’d opened up to him last night, so perhaps she would do it again, if only he was patient.

Patience was indeed one of his better qualities. He knew the value of biding one’s time, waiting to find the appropriate moment to take a course of action, to share information, or to use a spell. Patience was also more gentle than force, so perhaps it would work in his favor, should he want to find out more about the half-elf girl.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to Zadash folks!  
> Anywho, I thought it might be interesting if I revealed a bit of my process here. So while a lot of the events are predetermined, I do actually roll for a lot of things- excluding proficiency bonuses because I don't know what each of the Nein is proficient in, and using a stat block I rolled for Linnet at the start of this fic- so that the outcome is a bit more random. Some instances where I have rolled for events: when Molly was sparring with Linnet (those events were determined by making a d20 roll), the attack of the gnolls in the chapter prior, the attack of the axe-beaks (as well as number), some of the saves made by the birds in this chapter, and then Caleb's Insight check on Linnet at the end.  
> A quick note: Axe Beaks are a very low challenge rating encounter, even at the number they appeared in this chapter. I just made them slightly more vicious for the purpose of having a moment where Linnet could do a good turn for Caleb.  
> Thank you so much for your continued support, and please let me know what you think in the comments below.  
> Thank you


	16. Zadash

Zadash.

It’d been a while since she’d last been to Zadash—two years, almost—but it was just as she remembered. The streets were crowded, filled with all manners of pedestrians and merchants, and the alleyways that connected the main thoroughfares, where she knew thieves and charlatans sought shelter, and harlots waited for their customers. There were fishmongers, calling out the names of fish she barely recognized, while small children ran through the crowds, weaving in and out of the adults who milled around them. As they passed through the Pentamarket, Linnet was greeted by the familiar smell of farm animals, no doubt brought to market to be sold.

She kept close to the Nein as they made their way through the city, towards the Interstead Sprawl, a part of the city she’d never been to. When the troupe had performed in Zadash, it had been in the Pentamarket, and Linnet knew better than to venture far from the group, and she knew performing folk weren’t often welcome in the more well off areas. Of course, Fabian had suggested they go explore where they weren’t welcome once night had fallen, just to see what it was all like.

“Don’t you ever wonder what it looks like?” he’d asked her, gesturing in the direction of the Tri-Spire.

She had shaken her head, and told him she didn’t need to wonder. “I know what it’s like,” she’d said, “there’s palaces and great houses with servants and tapestries—just like in all the stories.”

“Just because you have stories doesn’t mean you know anything,” he’d been quick to say, giving her a playful shove—while his tone said otherwise, the gesture told her the truth. He meant it in play. He would never say anything that intentionally hurt her.

That had been three nights before he left.

As they continued on their way, Linnet found herself searching the crowds for the familiar face of her brother, wondering where he could be, if he was even here at all. If he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be found, and it was really as simple as that.

Still, she couldn’t help but look. She knew she needed to find her people above all else, but here she was, in Zadash, where she knew she might find Fabian if only she thought to look hard enough. She considered trying to cast Message in order to catch his attention, if he was indeed near, but thought better of it. While it cost her little to no energy to do so, she was doubtful her brother would even respond if he did receive the message.

She thought about her dream from the other night, the one where she had been chasing Fabian through the wood, and she wondered if it had any real meaning. She knew not all dreams had meaning, but her sister had often said that certain dreams did, if only you were to look for it. Had there been meaning in that dream, then, or was it simply her mind dwelling on the thought of her brother? Had she been with her troupe, she might have asked the resident fortune-teller, but she knew if she were with the troupe, she wouldn’t think to dwell on the matter. She would be content to have her troupe—her people—and so long as she had them, she could stand to be without her brother.

They arrived at the Song and Supper Inn and paid for rooms for the night (Caleb and Nott in one, Molly and Fjord in another, which left Beau, Jester, and Linnet in the last one, as it’d been on the road) before finding themselves an unoccupied table where they could settle down. The common space of the inn was filled with song and laughter as a small band of gnomes played a song Linnet recognized easily enough, and she saw that some of the patrons were dancing along.

“We should go dance!” Jester exclaimed, taking Nott by the hand and darting towards the main cluster of dancers before the goblin girl had a chance to slip her porcelain mask into place.

While Jester and Nott went to dance, Linnet and the rest stayed behind. Linnet found her gaze wandering through the crowd, some small part of her hoping she might see Fabian. For a moment, she thought she saw him, ashen hair and dark eyes like hers, brushing past a rosy-cheeked human woman and ducking to avoid a drunken goliath man before disappearing once more into the crowd.

_Fabian?_

She directed the spell after the young man, praying to her gods that, if he were indeed her brother, he would respond. She prayed that it was indeed her brother, and not some trick brought on by weariness and desperation.

Nothing.

“Worth a try,” she muttered, taking a sip of the small beer Fjord had brought to the table for her.

“Whatcha doing?” Mollymauk asked, leaning close to her and giving her a conspiratorial smile as he did. He glanced across the room, to where Fabian had been (or at least, she thought he’d been), then turned his attention back to Linnet. “Trying to get someone’s attention, are we?”

“No,” she said, turning her attention back to her drink, avoiding Mollymauk’s gaze. Without much thought, she glanced towards the front of the inn, hoping for another glance of the boy that was perhaps her brother. She felt the gazes of Molly and Beau (as well as the others at the table, but Molly and Beau most of all) upon her, and she added, “I thought I saw someone I knew, that’s all.”

Beau and Molly exchanged glances that Linnet wasn’t able to decipher, and she saw Caleb furrow his brow. From his usual spot around Caleb’s neck, Frumpkin let out a long _mwrow_ and looked at Linnet with his wide, yellow eyes. Fjord simply shrugged.

Beau narrowed her gaze at Linnet. “Was it someone from your troupe?”

Linnet shook her head. “No,” she said, gaze darting for the door, then to where Jester and Nott were still dancing, the tiefling girl not matching the rhythm of the song, but rather grinning and skipping in a circle with Nott. “Someone else. No one…no one important so.”

“Is there anywhere we should go tomorrow, to look for your people?” Fjord asked, and Linnet thanked the gods that he’d changed the topic, if only slightly. “Any friends in the city?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, taking another sip of her drink and closing her eyes for a moment. She knew one person in this city, and she wasn’t sure where to find him, or if he would even want to be found. She tightened her grip on the cup in front of her, and ducked her head to avoid Beau’s gaze for a moment. When she looked up, she made eye contact with Fjord, who’d asked the question.

“Can’t you, y’know, use your magic to find them?” Beau glanced at Caleb. “There’s spells for that, right?”

Caleb nodded. “ _Ja_ ,” he said, the furrow in his brow deepening. “There are, but—”

“I don’t know them…I mean, I know _about_ them—there’s plenty of stories—but I’m not strong enough.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, and she shook her head, trying to clear the flurry of thoughts that now occupied her head. “Give it a few years, maybe, but not now.”

“What do you mean, there’s plenty of stories?” Fjord leaned forward, drawing his own mug of beer closer to his chest.

“It means just that,” she said, finding that her voice had taken on a slight sharpness when she replied. “There’s stories of magic that people use to find people and things, and…and I know someone who can use that magic, too. She said she’d teach me when I’d been studying a bit longer, in case I ever wanted to find…in case I ever wanted to find someone.”

Again, Beau and Molly exchanged a look, and Linnet wondered if Beau had told Molly about Fabian.

Even if she had, there shouldn’t be need to worry—Linnet’s stomach shouldn’t’ve tightened into a knot the way it did—because Linnet had been careful not to tell the full truth about her brother. It was true, she hadn’t seen him in a long time, but she’d never spoken about what had actually happened. It wasn’t important, anyway, and it didn’t matter, because, well, it wasn’t any danger, and it didn’t concern any of the Mighty Nein.

“Like your brother?” Beau asked, raising a brow. “Is he someone you’d want to find?”

“I don’t know,” Linnet said, the sharpness gone from her voice. What was she supposed to do if she found Fabian? What would she say to him? “I…I need some fresh air. I won’t be long…I just…I…”

Finishing off her small beer, Linnet rose and headed towards her room, hesitant to go outside where she might see Fabian (who, as usual, seemed to be causing more trouble than was necessary, even though he wasn’t there). She knew the room wasn’t outside, but she doubted Beau would follow, and she knew Jester would be too busy dancing to bother her. Having the room to herself would be a small blessing, small enough of one that she could collect herself and sort through everything that was rearing its head.

Humming to herself, she called forth two of her lights and shaped them into a bird, like Puck had taught her. It was some strain to keep it in this shape and guide it around the room, but it was enough of a distraction that for a moment, she was able to forget about what had happened downstairs, or at least put it in the back of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's interested, I did roll a Wisdom save for Beau's impulse control in that last interaction there, and she nat 1'd (also because it makes sense she would do that, I just wanted to see what the dice thought). 
> 
> So we're finally in Zadash, and shit is about to get kinda real for the Mighty Nein and Linnet, at least as certain elements come into play and certain paths cross.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support, and feel free to leave a comment, let me know what you think :)


	17. Charming

Molly watched the girl leave the table, darting through the evening crowd with ease. There were moments when she would disappear amidst the browns and dark tones of common clothes, and then he saw a flash of blue—her sash—and he knew where she was headed, which was most certainly not outside, as she’d claimed. Instead, Molly watched as she climbed the small, rickety staircase, and when she paused at the top to glance over her shoulder, it was his eyes that she met before disappearing into the narrow corridors of the upper floor.

“She does know the door’s that way, right?” Beau asked once Linnet was out of sight, though the monk hadn’t paid the girl much mind after she left.

“Perhaps she just wanted some time to herself,” Molly said with a shrug. “You’re not the most thoughtful speaker, you know that, right?”

“Oh, so it was my fault then?” Beau threw her hands in the air and then crossed them tightly in front of her, lips pressed together in a stubborn line. “Aren’t you wondering about it too, Molly?”

“Wondering about what?” He batted his eyes innocently at her. “I told you before, I’m not getting involved.”

“Not getting involved in what?” Fjord glanced at Beau, then at Molly. “What’s going on, you two?”

“Linnet’s got a brother she’s trying to find,” Beau said, shrugging. “His name’s Fabio or something.”

“Beau here thinks he might be tied to the Gentleman.” Molly let out a long sigh. “Listen, I say we let it be. We said we’d help her find her troupe, and that’s what we’re going to do, all right?”

“If she wants to tell us anything, it will be in her own time,” Caleb said, scratching Frumpkin between the ears as he spoke. He made pointed eye contact with Beau as he added, “and on her own terms, Beauregard.”

Beau let out a disgruntled _hmphf_ , and took a long drink from her mug, blue eyes narrowed at Molly, then at Caleb.

Molly downed his small beer with ease and stood. “I think I will turn in for the night,” he declared, glancing around the table. He noticed Frumpkin was no longer around Caleb’s neck. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a nice meal, and I am ready to sleep in a nice bed.”

Without waiting for his companions’ replies, he made his way towards the stairs, taking a moment to check on Nott and Jester, who were still dancing, neither seeming to tire at this rate. A few stairs up, and he encountered Frumpkin, who just sat there, staring at him expectantly.

“What do you want?” He asked, not unkindly, mind. He tried to pass, and the fey cat mewled, batting at his coat. “Alright, alright, I see how it is,” and he scooped Frumpkin up, careful not to get cat hairs on his coat.

While it was Mollymauk’s full intention to call it a night, he thought it might be worth a shot to make sure Linnet wasn’t too upset by Beau. The girl wasn’t one of the Nein, but she was carnival folk, just as he was, and even if they were from separate troupes, there was no doubting the kinship that would exist between carnival folk.

And so he found himself at the door of Beau, Jester, and Linnet’s room. He listened first, straining his ears to see if perhaps Linnet might want some privacy, and then he opened the door, not really thinking to ask for permission.

Linnet sat with her back against the footboard, brow furrowed as she watched the luminous birds that flew in front of her. She didn’t look as though she’d been crying, though the furrow of her brow and the set of her jaw (three days with the girl and Molly was certain that this was not how she normally held herself), they suggested she might have thought about it.

Frumpkin leapt out of Mollymauk’s arms, heading straight for the nearest bird and trying desperately to catch it, and Molly saw Linnet’s lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile.

It was then that she noticed him, her dark eyes wide, and her birds blinked out of existence (much to Frumpkin’s confusion). She glanced at Molly, then at Frumpkin, but remained seated.

Molly took this as an invitation to seat himself on the ground next to her, and Frumpkin trotted over and nestled himself in her lap, yellow eyes glancing up at the girl expectantly.

“Forgive Beau,” he told her, breaking the steady silence that hung between them. “She tends to think before she speaks, and that never ends well.”

Linnet shrugged. “I’ve heard worse,” she said quietly. For a moment she looked hurt, and a little lost as well. “Well, folks tend not to think before they speak about performing folk so.”

“How long’ve you been performing then?” he asked, seeing an opportunity to find out more about the girl. If she was going to be part of their group any longer, it wouldn’t hurt to know something about where she came from.

“Ten years with the travelling show,” she said, scratching Frumpkin between the ears. “But I used to sing at village festivals and the like, before then.”

Molly nodded. “That’s impressive,” he said, and indeed, it was. “And you sing. That’s what you do?”

Another shrug. “Mostly, though Nessa taught me some acrobatics, and Tatya taught me a few tricks herself,” she said. “But I prefer singing, and telling stories.”

“Do you know a lot of stories, then?”

She nodded. “I do,” she said, no longer scratching Frumpkin’s ears. Instead, she was fiddling with the pendant around her neck. “Though I’m sure there’s plenty I haven’t heard yet.”

Mollymauk wondered if she would have fit in at all with the carnival he belonged to (or had belonged to. As far as he was certain, the carnival as he knew it was gone). He could see her singing alongside Toya, or weaving magic with her song the way Desmond did. Perhaps she and the Knot Sisters would have gotten along, though who was to say? Linnet—despite being cut from the same cloth, it seemed, as the rest of the carnival folk he had known—seemed different, strange almost.

By looking at her, he could tell she was an entertainer, sure, but he would be hesitant to say she performed with a troupe. Carnival folk were loud, riotous colors; they were exotic birds much like what Mollymauk had made himself into (though perhaps Yasha stood apart from this standard, though her beauty was exotic in its own right, even Orna seemed to have been in agreement there). Linnet didn’t share this quality, it would seem. Her dress was plain, fawn breeches and a pale blue tunic (which at this point no doubt was in desperate need of a wash), and while the sash added some flair to her movement, Molly knew it was just enough to catch someone’s eye, and nothing more. She wore no jewelry (granted, she had no horns to decorate the way he and Jester did), save the pendant around her neck, though that seemed more sentimental than ornamental, and a quick look told Molly that her ears weren’t pierced.

“Why’d you join your troupe?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. “Everyone has their reasons. What was yours?”

“I joined to learn.” In her lap, Frumpkin started mewling, and reached out to bat at her idle hand. “Alright, alright,” she said, a small smile on her lips as she resumed petting Frumpkin. “Aren’t you a demanding one?”

“Learn what?”

There was plenty to learn on the road, sure, but as far as Molly was aware, you didn’t join a carnival to learn. You joined to get away, or because you had nowhere else to go.

“How to…how to shape my magic, and make it work.”

Molly tilted his head to the side, intrigued about her answer. Caleb rarely talked about his magic (Jester talked about it often enough, how the Traveler taught her to do it), but he’d never heard it talked about as something you could shape.

In the back of his mind, there was the pressing issue of what had happened downstairs. What was this about Linnet’s brother that had Beauregard like this?

He felt the magic collect in his mouth, honey-sweet and prickly at the same time, and he felt the spell shaping itself. He knew what he was doing, of course, and perhaps that there would be repercussions, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and what harm could it do, really? She already seemed open towards him—she saw they were the same, perhaps—so what harm would a small shove do? Then he could find out what it was that had her as anxious as she had when they entered the city, maybe see what information he could glean about her brother, since Beauregard was so intent on knowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened...
> 
> Anyways, I did roll a Wisdom save for Linnet against Molly's DC, so we'll see the results of that in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support, and don't hesitate to leave a comment down below.


	18. Cornered

Linnet felt the magic brush up against her, trying to wrap her mind in a gentle embrace. There was a taste like honey, but more sickly-sweet, like honey shouldn’t be, rose in the back of her throat.

She knew the spell. She’d encountered it before in her lessons with Puck. They were teaching her to feel magic, and know when magic was being acted upon her, and they had cast this spell.

She hadn’t panicked then, not as she did now. Her heart didn’t race—it had been Puck, after all, and she trusted them almost as much as she trusted Fabian—and she didn’t try and fight then. It had been a lesson, Puck had told her that, and they had assured her that nothing would happen that she didn’t want to.

And now Mollymauk was using that same spell on her, in her room at the Song and Supper. As much as she liked Mollymauk, and as much as they might have in common, she didn’t trust him the way she did Puck, or any of her troupe.

She fought back, shaking off the embrace of the lavender tielfing’s magic and trying to rid her mouth of the taste of honey. It was a difficult task. She could feel the strong pull of the magic, trying to pull her back into its embrace, and lull her into a sense of security.

It wanted her to trust Mollymauk, to see him the way she saw Puck—as someone she could confide in without question—and she knew she couldn’t do that. While her lesson with Puck had only been how to feel magic being used on her, Linnet knew that to use such a spell on someone was to express distrust. Puck only ever used it when they wanted people to know they could do magic, and to frighten them that way, and no doubt Mollymauk wanted to convey the same.

“Stop,” she said, finally shaking free of the magic’s grasp. She met Mollymauk’s eyes and stood (Frumpkin jumped out of her lap just in time, clever cat), her legs unsteady as she moved to put space between herself and the tiefling. “I know what…Please stop.”

It was like it had been in the fight against the gnolls—this situation was new, and there was no one to show her what she was supposed to do. Did she fight back? Or did she let it happen?

_Mrow._

Linnet glanced at Frumpkin. The tabby was just standing there, his tail held level, while one ear was turned towards Linnet, and the other towards Molly. There was no telling what he thought about this all, or if he really cared for what was happening.

She could feel panic bubbling inside her, and she remembered a spell Puck had shown her—it flashed through her memory like a bolt of lightning—and before she could think, she felt the energy crackling in her hand. It climbed up her arm, snaking around her wrist some as she held it steady, her hand trembling.

“Why would you do that?” she asked, keeping her eyes on Mollymauk this time. “Why would you use that kind of magic?”

“Your brother,” Molly said, standing as well, dusting off his elaborate coat as he did. He didn’t seem phased by the spell she held in her hand—rather, he grinned, flashing sharp teeth and a showman’s leer.

“There’s nothing to know,” she said, taking a step back, shaking her head as she did. “He’s not in my life anymore.”

“Then who were you looking for downstairs?” He cocked his head to the side, and his red eyes narrowed, a gesture that Linnet read plainly as _don’t play this game with me, because you will lose_. “’Cause you saw someone, didn’t you? Down in the bar, you saw someone you knew.”

“It wasn’t,” she said, taking a breath to steady herself, and help her focus on the energy she held in her hand.

What she remembered from the stories was that this spell was volatile, meant to be summoned and thrown, not held like one of her lights. She could feel it writhing in her grip, trying to break free. It knew what she wanted it to do, why she had paid attention to the stories about it and those who wielded it so closely, and it wanted to do her bidding. She could hear it snap, but she willed it to stay put, tightening her hand, as if that would help her keep grip on the magic.

“It wasn’t anyone I knew.”

It was true, because after two years of being apart, did she really know her brother anymore? Or was he a stranger to her now?

If she saw him on the street, would it be like it used to, like looking into a mirror, or would he have changed entirely?

“Come on,” Mollymauk said, his voice like velvet, though without any tinges of magic that Linnet could find. “We’re the same sort, aren’t we? Carnival folk. The rest of the group’s crazy, yeah, but your secret’s safe with me.”

“I don’t have secrets,” Linnet said, her voice cold—she hardly recognized it herself, but after the tiefling’s attempt to charm her, she was hesitant to drop the act. “And you tried to charm me.”

“Everybody has secrets.” Mollymauk’s gaze dropped to her hand, where the blue energy continued to writhe in her grip, and it lingered there, as if to make a point. He took a step towards her, his tail flicking idly behind him. “Even if they’re small ones, everyone has them.”

As the tiefling approached, Linnet raised her hand. She kept her grip on the energy—the hand was raised more in warning than anything else—and didn’t back down. “I’ve said, I don’t have secrets.”

She didn’t have secrets, only things that weren’t important to the moment. Her brother was one such thing. It was her fault, and no one else needed to know.

Frumpkin let out a startled mewl as the door to the room opened.

Linnet took another step back, feeling the wall of the room against her back, and she lowered her hand, hoping to conceal the energy writhing in her grip. When she looked to see who it was, she saw Caleb enter the room and shut the door behind him.

“Linnet,” he said, his voice frighteningly even as he approached the two. “Drop the spell, please.”

Linnet did as she was told, sensing an undercurrent in the wizard’s voice as he stood between her and Mollymauk. The energy fizzled in her hand as she willed it away her nose wrinkling at the faint smell it left behind, like something had burnt the air itself.

“Good.” Caleb nodded, and glanced at Mollymauk. “Mollymauk.”

“I was just leaving,” the tiefling said, glancing at Linnet one last time before he turned on his heel and left, chest puffed as if he had won some sort of contest between them.

Linnet watched him go, her posture rigid. Some part of her remained at the ready, prepared to call her new spell back to her, should she need to. She didn’t want to, but she would if it was necessary.

“Thank you,” she told Caleb, her voice still carrying a slight chill.

“It’s nothing,” he said, the firmness in his voice gone, though there was no mistaking the intensity that seemed to linger in his blue eyes. “You look like you could use a walk.”

“I…I’m fine, I think,” she said, glancing at her hands. The hand that had held the new spell was trembling, and she wondered for a moment if she would have thrown the spell at Mollymauk, had he pressed closer. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. “Alright.”

A small smile spread across Caleb’s lips, and again, Linnet saw the quiet sadness in it. “Fresh air always helps,” he told her with a small nod.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for the wisdom saving throw I made against Mollymauk's Charm Person, I rolled an 11, which is his spell save DC as of the posting of this chapter. I fiddled around with magic here as well...Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> But yeah, these last two chapters have really taken an interesting turn.
> 
> As always, thank you so much!


	19. Walk With Me

They walked side by side through the streets of Zadash, Caleb with his hands in the pockets of his coat, and Linnet with her sash wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl to keep out the crisp autumn air. They made their way through the Interstead Sprawl in silence, moving at a leisurely pace, as they were in no hurry. Every so often, Caleb noticed that Linnet would pause in front of an alleyway, staring into the shadows, searching for something, it seemed, and when she didn’t find it, she would quicken her pace to catch up with Caleb, even though she only fell behind by a couple steps.

As they made their way towards the Pentamarket, Caleb noticed that she seemed to have calmed down a bit more since leaving the Song and Supper Inn, though there was still some hint of sadness in her expression. It was clear, as she would linger at the mouth of alleyways and smaller streets, that she was looking for someone, or thought she might see someone.

Caleb would be lying if he said he didn’t have questions for the girl. There was the matter of her brother, which Beauregard had brought up in the common area of the Song and Supper. Was Linnet’s brother someone they should have to worry about, or was he not their problem? The way Beauregard talked about it, it very well could be, if they weren’t careful.

There was also the matter of Linnet’s stand-off with Mollymauk. From what he had seen and heard through Frumpkin, it had all started because the tiefling had tried to charm Linnet, and the girl had thrown off his attempt. But she had panicked as well, and called forth a spell, no doubt with the intention of casting it towards Molly. That had been the intention, and yet, she hadn’t. She’d held the crackling energy by her side, her hand shaking as she did. She had tried to talk her way out of it, tried to deflect Molly’s demands. Caleb had been half-skeptical that she wouldn’t hurl the energy she held in her hand at the tiefling, and, when she had managed to keep her hold steady, he couldn’t help but be the slightest bit impressed.

When he had told her to dismiss the spell, he wasn’t sure what he expected. She was harmless enough—young and inexperienced with magic—but he knew better than to judge her ability by her age. She had studied for ten years, she’d told him, and from what she’d said, it sounded like her teacher had a unique way of approaching things, and she had many teachers to learn from as well.

Caleb hadn’t had that benefit. He studied for maybe two, three years, before it all fell apart, and he only had one teacher, and that teacher had taught him one lesson—how to destroy and manipulate in the name of the Empire.

But those were thoughts for later, not for now.

Now…

He glanced over at Linnet, unsure of what he was supposed to do. She had tried to attack his fr…she had tried to attack Mollymauk, he had seen her standing there, the crackling energy in her hand. Her stance was unsure, but he didn’t question that she would have struck if she had been allowed more time. If Beau or Fjord had been there, Caleb knew they would have taken the side of Mollymauk, and perhaps brought into question whether or not Linnet was to be considered a friend.

But she had been scared. He had seen it in her face then, and he saw it even now, as the moment was well behind them, that she was afraid. Something had happened that she wasn’t prepared for, for all her travel and apparent knowledge, and she panicked.

“What happened?” he finally asked, and though it was perhaps an empty question, as he’d seen and heard a majority of it through Frumpkin, he wanted to hear the girl’s story. “Why did you try to attack Mollymauk?”

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” She took a moment to compose herself—the question had caught her off guard, it seemed. Perhaps she had been expecting a simple walk through the city to clear her head, not the question Caleb had asked. “He tried to charm me, and…It’s only happened once before. I…I…I wasn’t sure what to do.”

Caleb furrowed his brow. “So you thought to attack him?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t…I wasn’t going to…He tried to charm me.”

“You mentioned.” He could see she was agitated, and for a moment he considered giving her Frumpkin to hold. He thought better of it, at least for now. “You said…you said you were charmed before?”

This time she nodded. “Puck, my teacher. They did it to teach me, to show me what it felt like when someone cast a spell like that on you,” she said, fiddling with the border of her sash-shawl.

Caleb felt his stomach roll at the mention of her teacher casting spells on her in order to teach a lesson. How many times had Trent done so with him or the other two, all in the name of teaching?

“You weren’t scared?”

“No,” she said, looking at him the same way she had when he had asked if her teacher was a good, kind person, as if she didn’t understand that there was evil in this world. “They did it to show me, and I know they’d never hurt me.”

“How do you know?”

“I trust them.” Her attention flickered back to the street, as a group of young men passed them. Her gaze followed them until they were passed.

“Who are you looking for?”

That seemed to be the question of the evening, who Linnet was searching for. He almost felt bad for asking it, after seeing how uncomfortable it had made her in the tavern, and how it had upset her when Molly asked, but he couldn’t help his own curiosity. It tugged at him, and he figured now was as good a time as any to ask.

“My troupe,” she answered, not even missing a beat. She spoke quickly, but her confidence wavered. “I am looking for my troupe.”

“Yes, yes,” Caleb said, nodding. “I know, but here, in Zadash. Are you looking for someone?”

Caleb was not sure who had stopped first, though he noticed Linnet had stopped a step behind him. She was watching him, and Caleb could read her expression with startling clarity. She was planning—he could see it in the small furrow of her brow, and the way she took a breath and glanced skywards, as if rehearsing. He wondered what, though he did not press any further. He knew sometimes it helped to have the right words, and he did not mind giving her the time to find them.

“There is someone.”

“Beauregard said you have a brother.” He spoke carefully, hesitantly. It was like crossing a floor with creaky boards, in an unfamiliar house, but not wanting to make a noise all the same. He furrowed his brow. “Fabio?”

“Fabian,” she corrected, her dark eyes flashing. “His name’s Fabian.”

“Fabian,” Caleb repeated. It was a nice name, he thought, a strong-sounding name. “And you…you are close?”

He saw her hesitate. “I…I…” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“How do you…how do you not know if you are close?”

He watched as her shoulders drooped—she carried herself with such ease, comfortable with who she was, it was strange to watch that shift—and she turned away, hiding her face for a moment before she turned to face him, her lips pressed in a straight line. He knew that look. Had he not seen it himself many times in the mirror?

She looked at him for a moment, and he saw it again in her eyes—she was making some sort of judgment, some kind of calculation—and then it was gone. Her face had taken on a serious set, something he did not expect of her. “I’ll tell you a story,” she said, quietly. “Make of it…make of it what you will.”

Caleb furrowed his brow, and Frumpkin mewed. “Alright,” he said, glancing around. They were in the middle of the street, and he saw a bench not far off, in an alcove near the edge of the Pentamarket. Perhaps they should sit, if Linnet was going to tell a story. “Why don’t we sit, instead of standing in the middle of the street. We’ll attract less attention that way.”

She nodded, and followed him over to the bench. She adjusted her sash around her shoulders, and Caleb saw her reach for the pendant around her neck. There was no magic in the stone, he was sure of that, but perhaps it brought her comfort somehow.

“There were once two twins—a boy and a girl,” she began, her hand dropping to her lap, and her voice quiet—not the confident voice Caleb remembered from the stories she told around the campfire on the way to Zadash. “They were, as the gods would have it, near identical, and inseparable as well. Where there was one, there was always the other, no matter what, like reflections of the other, similar in almost every way.”

_In almost every way_. The phrase caught Caleb’s attention, especially the “almost,” but he didn’t dare interrupt. Whatever it was she was imparting upon him, he knew he would have to listen closely, or risk missing it.

“The twins grew older, and soon it was apparent that, while equally gifted in their own right, they were not equally blessed by the gods, for the sister had a gift of her own—the gift of magic—while her brother possessed no such gift. The sister left her childhood home to learn to use her gift, and her brother followed, slipping away from their mother’s home like a shadow. He found her easily, and the two travelled for years.

“The sister took this time to hone her gift, learning all she could from anyone who would teach her, and she found ways to delight others with her gift. The brother found his own gift—not gods-given, as his sister’s was, but a gift nonetheless—and he spent those years training, honing his cunning and learning to move with the grace and silence of an owl. Still, the two remained inseparable, or so thought the sister.”

_Oh no_ , thought Caleb, petting Frumpkin between the ears. Without much thought, he sent Frumpkin into Linnet’s lap, so, should she need it, she would have the comfort of the fey cat. He knew enough stories that he could perhaps guess how this one ended, but he held his tongue for now.

“After years of travelling, the twins came to a great city. It was not the sister’s intention to stay, as she had become a wanderer by nature, and she told her brother of her intention to only stay a few days. The brother agreed, and the twins set off to ply their respective trades in the market square. They stayed in the great city for three days, and on the third day, when they had agreed they would depart for the next town, the sister awoke to find her twin gone.”

“He left?” It was the first Caleb had spoke for the entirety of her tale, and he almost felt bad for breaking the spell.

Linnet nodded. “In the middle of the night, he had left,” she said, wrapping an arm around her middle, almost unaware of Frumpkin in her lap. “The sister didn’t know where he had gone, and so she was hesitant to search. She summoned every useful spell she had at her disposal then, and used them to call to her brother, but in her heart of hearts, she knew the truth—her brother had left her, and she was on her own.

“She was frightened. This was the first time she had been without her twin. For the first time, she felt incomplete, alone. There was no one to watch her back, no one to share her journey with, no one…She was alone, and she was afraid.”

Caleb pressed his lips into a thoughtful line, mulling over the details of her story. “And you are the girl in the story,” he said, getting Frumpkin to rub his head against the girl, and put her at ease. “The story is yours.”

She nodded.

“I see.” There was a stretch of silence as Caleb glanced at the sky, then back at Linnet. “Do you know where he is?”

“Here, in Zadash, I’d imagine,” she said, stroking Frumpkin—slowly at first, hesitantly, like Caleb had seen Yasha do, when he first introduced her to his familiar. “He always…he always talked about making something of himself, and I don’t doubt…I don’t doubt he can do it. He’s quick as a shadow, and twice as hard to catch, if he wants to be, and clever—our sister used to say he was like a fox, or a raven, he was so clever. If he doesn’t want to be found, I won’t find him.”

“Do you want to find him?”

“I don’t know,” she said, scratching Frumpkin between the ears. “I don’t know if I want to.”

Caleb nodded. “It’s getting late,” he remarked, his gaze drifting towards the sky again. “And tomorrow will be busy. Perhaps it is best we head back.”

She was slow to return the nod. “Promise you won’t tell the others? It’s…It’s not that I want to keep it from them, but…but it’s my story, I suppose, and I’d rather not, you know.”

“Of course not.” It was by far the smallest secret he kept, but a secret nonetheless, and he would keep it to the best of his ability. “Thank you…thank you for the story.” 


	20. The Day's Work

She didn’t sleep well that night.

Her dreams were dark and shadowed, with flashes of fire that punctuated the darkness around her. She heard Puck’s voice, telling her in Infernal to go, “fly away,” they said, and she would find them. She tried to find them—she searched in every direction—but all she found was darkness and fire. There was the clash of weapons, and she ran, though that only accomplished so much. She managed to escape the fire and noise, only to find instead that she was trapped, the dark space closing in on her from all sides, blinding her and stealing her voice.

She woke in the middle of the night (she wasn’t sure if it was actually the middle of the night, but dawn felt far enough away), her heart racing and a thin sheen of sweat covering her body. She reached to touch her pendant, rolling onto her side and curling in on herself, seeking comfort in the small object.

As she tried to fall asleep once more, she thought she heard Jester say her name, and ask if she was alright, but Linnet did not respond. Instead, she closed her eyes and prayed to her god—the Changebringer, as well as her sister’s Wildmother, for a dreamless sleep.

When morning came, she made her way downstairs and settled herself beside Caleb with hardly a word beyond “good morning” to him and the rest of the Nein who had made it down before her. She ordered her breakfast (bacon and a roll again, nothing fancy, though much more than what the troupe usually ate on the road), and did her best to ignore the nausea that lingered from the night before in order to eat. As she ate, she caught Mollymauk and Beau watching her, the monk with narrowed eyes, while the lavender tiefling simply watched her, his expression unreadable, and she dropped her gaze to her plate, taking sudden interest in her meal.

“We need to go to Pumat’s at some point today, and resupply,” Mollymauk said, addressing all who were gathered at the table (which was all of the Nein, minus Jester, who had still been asleep when Linnet made her way downstairs), though Linnet doubted he meant to include her. “With any luck, he’ll have healing potions in stock this time.”

“Not a bad idea,” said Fjord, and he glanced at Linnet. “Any idea where you might find your folks?”

Her stomach twisted into a harsh knot, and Linnet pressed her lips into a tight line, willing the feeling to go away. “I’ve an idea of where I can find someone,” she said, the knot in her stomach only coiling more tightly.

The lie stung, and Linnet wondered why she didn’t just tell Fjord that she didn’t know what to do or where to look?

In all of Zadash, she knew one person, and she wasn’t sure how to find him, let alone sure he would speak to her if she did. It was unlikely, that even if she did find her brother and convince him to talk to her, that Fabian would help her find her people.

What she needed was someone with magic, with the right spells—spells she knew plenty about, but didn’t know how to cast herself—who would be willing to help her for what little coin she had to offer. Such services would not come cheap, especially not in Zadash, and Linnet knew it would not be without risk. She knew Fabian thought her too foolish to understand some things, but she knew well enough that charlatans and fakes were commonplace when it came to magic, and a danger as well.

She remembered her troupe’s fortuneteller, the black tabaxi woman, and the lessons they sometimes had together. It was usually when Puck was conferring with the Silvertread sisters (not really sisters—that was just how Tove introduced them) or dealing with some sort of dispute amongst the other members of the troupe, that she took lessons with Cres. As much as Puck taught her about magic, Linnet found there was so much more to be learnt from Cres.

The tabaxi woman was strange—all members of the troupe were, in their ways—but she was a good teacher, almost as good as Puck, and just as kind. When Fabian had left, Cres had offered Linnet a cup of tea and a surprisingly gentle embrace. Linnet had been quick to recover—they had a show, after all, and how was she going to tell the tale of the Terrible Tinkerer of Tal’dorei (a tragic tale, but a favorite wherever the troupe went) if she was preoccupied with her brother’s departure? After that performance, and after Cres had finished reading cards and deciphering dreams, the tabaxi had pulled Linnet aside to talk.

“Be careful, Linnet dear,” she had said, her voice still the far-off, velvety drawl she used when performing her readings. “No one here will stop you from searching, but remember to take care. You may not like what you find.”

The fortuneteller’s warning echoed in the back of Linnet’s mind as she tried to continue eating her breakfast. If she went looking for her brother, would she be ready for what she found?

As if in response, she felt her magic prickle, making her tongue feel strange, while her fingers twitched and the hair on the back of her neck rose a bit. She knew what the rush of magic was, but she held it back, keeping it from shaping the spell it so itched to shape. She had no use for it now, at a table in an inn—she had studied that spell for one reason, and one reason only, and she resolved to keep it for that day.

“Earth to Linnet!” she heard Jester say, and her magic quieted. The tiefling girl made a face once she had Linnet’s attention. “Are we gonna look for your family today or what?”

Linnet nodded. “I would like to,” she said, pretending not to notice as Nott’s hand darted towards the bacon in her plate, snatching up a few pieces that were promptly (and rather noisily) eaten.

“You said you know where to find someone who can help,” Fjord said, as if Linnet had forgotten her own words from moments ago. “Where might that be? And will you need someone to go with you?”

Of course she would want someone—she was less likely to be left behind if she had someone with her, less likely to be lost in the unfamiliar city (she had been here once, but that by no means counted as Zadash being familiar to her—few cities were familiar to her, really). She’d be foolish to go out on her own, though that posed the question of who she might ask to go with her. Caleb seemed the most obvious answer, since he knew her story (had telling him been a bad idea on her part? She wasn’t sure), and might be more likely to keep her secret if she asked him to.

As for the others…she was less certain.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t trust them, no, but Beau looked at her with clear distrust, or at least something close, and Jester was…Jester was good, and kindhearted, but Linnet wasn’t sure if she was right to take that at face value, and lying to Jester felt wrong, somehow, like lying out of malice. Linnet wasn’t sure about Fjord, though he seemed even-tempered enough (rare, if the stories Linnet had to go by when it came to half orcs), but his magic struck her as strange. She had heard stories, of course, of magic-users who could summon weapons from thin air, but none of them dripped saltwater or smelt of brine the way Fjord’s falchion did. She thought of asking him, to have another story to add to her repertoire, but perhaps there would be another time for that, when she could offer a story of her own to balance the deal.

It wasn’t a matter of not trusting the Mighty Nein, and Fabian had always accused her of being too trusting, too optimistic when it came to judging the character of others. Nott seemed alright, definitely different from any goblin Linnet had encountered (which was a few hordes along one of the northeastern passes, years back). She and Caleb were friends, which had to stand as some testament to the goblin’s character, and Linnet sometimes caught the protective glint and beaming pride of a mother in Nott’s features when it came to Caleb, so perhaps there was more there.

Mollymauk was the only one of the Nein to actually threaten Linnet, though looking across the table, it felt as if nothing had happened. It was if he hadn’t tried to charm her last night, as if she hadn’t summoned a spell and been prepared to defend herself. She didn’t understand it, and she wished she did. The tiefling had been kind to her, and nothing but, but last night had made Linnet wary. Her brother said she trusted too easily, and perhaps she did, but she was beginning to doubt her trust in Mollymauk after last night, because trust was mutual, wasn’t it? It had to be. If they trusted each other (as was reasonable for someone who she’d met four days ago, of course, she didn’t expect the trust she’d had in Fabian, or the trust between her and Puck), he wouldn’t have tried to use Charm Person on her, and that was just a fact.

“That…That would be nice, yes,” she said, nodding. She glanced at Caleb, though she doubted she would have little say in the matter. “I do not…I don’t know if they’ll still be around, because it’s been a while, but I think I know where to go.”

“I can go with her,” Caleb said, before Fjord or any of the others could speak.

“And I’ll go too,” Mollymauk said, flashing Linnet a quick grin. “It’ll be good, to see some other carnival folk after being with you lot.”

Beau rolled her eyes, and finished her mug of whatever she’d been drinking. “I’ll go with whoever’s going to Pumat’s,” she said, glancing at Fjord and Jester, and then Nott. Her gaze darted to Mollymauk. “Don’t forget, we’ve got that other business to take care of later, so don’t take too long.”

“Other business?” A lot of talk of business had crossed the table while they ate, but the way Beau spoke, it seemed to Linnet that there was something that had gone unsaid at the table (no doubt because of her presence). She was curious, and she almost couldn’t help but wonder what this “other business” was.

“It’s nothing important,” Fjord said, glaring at Beau. “Don’t worry about it. Just worry about finding your folks.”

Linnet furrowed her brow. “Alright,” she said, though she could sense that there was something else, something that wasn’t being said, and while she was content to let it lie, part of her was still curious as to what Beau had meant by “other business.” She supposed she’d find out later, one way or another, and so she didn’t ask again.


	21. In Busy Streets

The streets of Zadash were busy—not as vibrant and alive as they were at the time of the Harvest Close festival, but there was none of the suspicion and quiet panic as there was after the announcement of war with Xhorhas either. Children played while their mothers inspected the few stalls and shop windows that they passed, and Molly spotted a few Crownsguard here and there, and they looked tired, barely at ease. He spotted a few potential pickpockets as well, though none came close to their group as they followed Linnet through the winding city streets.

It wasn’t difficult to keep pace with her as she led them through the city. She moved with some sort of aimless purpose, as if she wasn’t quite sure of where she was going, but wanted to give the impression she did (and there was no fault in trying, Molly knew that), and every so often she would stop and glance over her shoulder, as if to make sure Molly and Caleb were still behind her. It wasn’t even as if she were in danger of getting separated from them. She led the group, that much was true, but she scarcely walked eight paces ahead of Molly—all it would take were a few long strides, and he would be able to match her perfectly.

“So where does this friend of yours live?” Molly asked, doing just that and closing the distance between them.

“Not much further,” she said leading them around a corner, and Molly swore they’d just past that fruit stall fifteen minutes ago. “I…You’ll have to forgive me so. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been in Zadash, and she might have moved. She likes to do that, you know.”

“Who is she?”

The half-elf girl gave a start, dark eyes wide, but she quickly caught herself. “She’s a…friend of the troupe’s,” she said. “We have a lot of…of, uh, sponsors. Friends of Nyssa’s family, really, who help pay for things, when we need it, Puck’s mentioned…that she’s gotten us out of trouble a few times before.”

“And what sort of trouble does your troupe get into?”

Molly knew most of the possible answers from his own time with the carnival, but he wanted to hear from her, what kind of stories she had to tell about her people.

She was intriguing, really, a small, diminutive thing that he couldn’t quite read. Sure, he had caught her lie that morning, but he saw no harm in it, and what had happened last night—what had Gustav once said? “Even a hare will bite if concerned.”—Molly could let that go.

He knew how it felt, to think you were alone in the world. He remembered (albeit through a thin veil of fog) the few days after he emerged from the ground, alone and searching for something. These people, the troupe, they were Linnet’s family, and Molly knew if he’d been left by the circus folk, he would no doubt be in her same position, afraid and alone.

“Well, there was one time, when we were near Trostenwald, I think, and Henri- one of our animal handlers- had, er, _relations_ with the daughter of someone important there, and that was a lot of trouble. Got us run out of town, and for once it wasn’t my brother’s fault.”

“Does he get into trouble a lot then, your brother?” It was a careful approach to a topic Molly had a feeling would come up later, and while he wasn’t particularly interested in all the details, he was still curious. He knew twins—well, he knew the Knot sisters, which were the next closest thing—and he wondered what Linnet’s story was.

A smile curled at the corner of her lips—so her brother was trouble, Molly could see that without her saying so—and she gave a small nod. “He did, and so did I, I suppose.”

“Sounds like you two are close.” He saw it in the softening of her features, the way the curl of her lips remained, and she seemed to let go of whatever it was she carried with her.

“We were.” She spoke those words, and even as they were moving (they passed a familiar shop front, and Molly noticed, but said nothing), Molly could see the softness leave her features for a moment. Her brows furrowed and he saw what he could only interpret as sadness cross her features.

Molly reached into his coat, pulled out the deck of cards, and, with what Orna had always jokingly called his “showman’s smile,” fanned the deck out and offered it to the half elf. “Why don’t you pick a card?”

“What?”

“Go on, pick a card, and I’ll tell you what it means.” He fiddled with the cards a bit, pushing a couple further out of the fan, to catch her attention, and see if she’d take the bait.

“It’s bullshit, you know that, right?” she asked, but reached for the card that was somehow the most tucked away and pulled it free, presenting it to him.

“Ah, the Moon.” He couldn’t help but smile at the familiar card—one of his favorites, not just for the artwork, but for the silent nod it was at the Moonweaver. “She stands for change, but also for conflicting goals. You want to find your troupe, but your brother…you’re looking for him as well, aren’t you?”

She stopped in her tracks, still clutching the card. Her eyes narrowed, and Molly could see a sharp-witted response on its way. “Those cards are bullshit,” she said, turning her head away from him, towards Caleb, who had stopped beside her, then back towards Molly. She still held the card in her hand, which Molly could see was beginning to tremble.

Her voice was quiet, hushed, perhaps Molly even dared to describe it as defeated—definitely not what he was expecting, given he’d prodded what was no doubt a sensitive topic for her—and there was a trace of guilt in her eyes as she spoke as well. If he was honest, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Is something the matter?” Caleb asked, furrowing his brow.

“Mollymauk’s cards are bullshit, that’s all,” Linnet said, a sudden bluntness in her words, and she offered the card back to Molly, who took it. She turned her back to Molly and Caleb and began walking down the street, the same path they’d walked last time they came this way.

“You’ve been leading us around in circles, you know!” Mollymauk called after her, tucking his cards away and following after her. It wouldn’t do to lose her in the crowd, though he was fairly confident that he could find her if he did. He quickened his pace a little, and soon he was back in step with her, with Caleb not far behind. “You don’t need to lie to us, if you don’t want to.”

Again, that got her to stop, and turn her attention towards him, eyes narrowed. “I’m not lying about anything.”

“Then why haven’t we found that friend of yours, hm?” He draped an arm over her shoulder and led her towards a side street, where it was less busy and they could sit and have a quick chat about it, sort things out. “I’m not upset, and I don’t particularly care why you would lie, but the others will, and trust me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of Fjord or Beau if they find out.”

She took a step back, and Molly let her—she only put her back against the wall—watching her closely, in case she tried to defend herself. “I’m not lying, I just…I don’t know,” she said, placing a hand flat against the building behind her. “I don’t know where my troupe is, I don’t know if I want to see my brother again, I don’t know!”

Caleb caught up with them, Frumpkin disappearing from his place around the wizard’s neck and reappearing at the girl’s feet. “Are we not going to find Linnet’s friend?”

Linnet hung her head. “There’s no one,” she said, avoiding eye contact with either Mollymauk or Caleb. Her hand went to the pendant around her neck for a moment, and then fell to her side. “I’m sorry. I lied. I’m sorry.”

“Is there any reason you did?” Molly was sure his tone made it clear, that he was no upset, but curious. It always perplexed him, why people would do certain things, why this girl would lie.

She didn’t answer for a while, her eyes flickering over to Caleb, then back at Molly, then to the ground. “I don’t know.”

Something moved in the corner of Molly’s vision—he didn’t see it clearly, only a flicker of red-gold, the slow _swish_ of a heavy cowl, the sound of light footsteps—and as he turned to follow the movement, he watched Linnet dart from her position between him and the wall, a flash of blue as she took off after the stranger. He heard Caleb whisper, and Frumpkin followed Linnet into the side streets of Zadash. He knew he and Caleb would not be far behind, and he thought about activating his swords before they began the chase, but decided against it, and simply took off after the girl.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note: This fanfic is going to continue as if Mollymauk (spoilers) did not die in episode 26. 
> 
> I will say, though, that when I watched ep26, I was in the middle of writing this chapter, and it's a strange thing, I suppose, that I sometimes can get in touch with Linnet in the way I do, in the way I did that night, but I felt Linnet react to Molly's death. It was such a sudden and violent reaction from her that I did have to set this aside for a while, because all she would give me was grief for a while. If anyone is wondering what her reaction to Molly's death was, it was to try and use her knowledge as a Lore Bard to bring him back somehow- she knows the stories, she knows how resurrection magic is supposed to work, and she would want to help. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your continued support, especially those of you who've messaged me on tumblr (and other places where I dwell) about Little Bird. Your support and interest means the world. 
> 
> Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting for a while to see how my character for an upcoming campaign might interact with the members of the Mighty Nein, and now seemed as good a time as ever to write that. I'd love to hear what folks think, and I'd love feedback about how I'm writing the members of the Mighty Nein so far- it's a bit difficult to get a good grasp on them, so any feedback would be much appreciated.


End file.
